Values
by Squidggle
Summary: Summary: Values of friendship and justice must be taken into consideration as the CSI's battle to save two of their own. First FF Chap 20 up.
1. A Night to Remember

**This is my first go at writing a fanfic, so...go easy on me :p**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything CSI related... it all belongs to Mr Zuiker and CBS..**

**Rating: PG-13..may change at a later date..**

**Summary: When a CSI is held hostage because of a result on a recent case, the values of friendship & justice must be taken into consideration.**

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**Values**

**Chapter 1: A Night To Remember**

It was one of those rare moments in the week of Warrick Brown. It was his night off, some time to himself at last. A time to put work at the back of his mind for once and have a life of his own. He'd spent the night at a local bar, along with his work colleague and close friend, Nick Stokes. It had been a long time since they'd spent some time together outside of work. The whole of the crime lab had been backed up lately. For some reason, there seemed to be an increase in crimes, or maybe it was because Warrick, along with Nick, had been working hard to put a serial rapist and killer behind bars.

"Well, it's been a great evening," said Nick, "but I think it's time I went home to catch some z's. Who knows when I'll be able to have a decent nights sleep again."

"Here, here," replied Warrick, finishing the remainder of his beer, making sure to leave the dregs.

Nick picked up his jacket and began to walk towards the exit, followed by Warrick.

"Well, I'll catch you tomorrow at the lab then, " Nick said as he turned to walk the short distance home.

"Yeah, see you then man." replied Warrick, wandering off to catch a taxi home. He really didn't want to walk home. All he wanted to do right now was play on his PS2 for a while before clambering into bed to catch some well deserved sleep.

The taxi pulled up the dark street that Warrick lived on, lit only by a few lamps. The driver carried on driving to the designated drop off point.

"Thanks," said Warrick giving the driver his fare, "Keep the change." Warrick climbed out of the door, in a world of his own. He didn't even hear the driver say thanks. He walked up his driveway, searching his pockets for his keys. He knew they were there somewhere. He was too busy searching for his keys that he didn't hear the rustling of the leaves of the nearby bush. He didn't hear the footsteps that were creeping up behind him. The only thing he did hear was the rushing of wind as heavy object swung towards his head. The last thing Warrick Brown saw was the darkness as it came to swallow him.

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**Well..this is the first part of my story...whether I continue will depend on what people's reaction is :)..lol..it will tell me if I'm any good at writing...or not**


	2. Revelations

**Heee..thought I'd try and add a second chapter to wet ya whistles.. :p**

**Disclaimer: Same as before..I own nothing sob ..not evening the pen it's written with**

**Summary: Warrick's been taken hostage...no-one at the lab knows where he is...**

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Chapter 2: Revelations

Ten minutes before the night shift began, Nick strolled into the lab and walked into Sara in the hallway. They carried on walking to the same place they meet each night: the break room.

"Hey Sara."

"Hey Nick. You okay?"

"Yeah yeah..I'm fine. I feel refreshed," sighed Nick. Sara laughed.

"Well aren't you a lucky boy." Sarah grinned, with that big gapped tooth smile of hers. Nobody could not love that smile...there was something about it, but Nick couldn't put his finger on it. "We didn't all have last night off you know. Why do you think I'm heading to our friend the coffee pot."

Nick laughed "Yeah, figures. Hey. You know, if it's some of Grego's stash..maybe I'll have some." he said slyly.

"Oh, you evil thing you," replied Sarah, opening the door to the break room. Catherine was already there and was sat on one of the chairs, cup of coffee already in hand.

"Is that..." began Sarah, heading over to the pot of already percolated coffee.

"Greg's coffee stash...yeah," finished Catherine. "He should really find another hiding place for that...or..not," she smirked.

As the clock on the wall signaled the start of the shift, Grissom walked into the break room clutching a handful of papers.

"Okay, before I hand out tonights assignments, I've got something to say. I know that lately we've all been overworked with the amount of cases coming through our doors, but it shall be sorted out as soon as possible. Some of the cases shall be given to day and swing shift if not the Sheriff will be on our backs and we don't want that." Grissom glanced around the room. "Hey, has anyone seen Warrick?"

"Nopes..maybe he's running late. He seemed fine last night when we left the bar," said Nick.

"Okay. Well, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt for the time being. Any longer then I'll try calling him. Anyway, for the meantime, Nick, you've got a break in at the grocery store. Catherine, Sara, you're with me. Male DB in an alleyway."

"Suspicious circs?" inquired Sara.

"As of the moment, yes, " Grissom replied. "So, lets get started."

Nick made his way out to his vehicle and started the ignition. Before he left the parking lot, he punched Warrick's number into his phone.

* * *

Warrick was beginning to wake up. As he lifted his head away from his chest, he groaned. He couldn't remember what had happened. All he could feel was the sharp pain in the back of his head. He opened his eyes. It took him a while to focus and take in his surrounding environment. It was dark, apart from some dim lighting coming from an old lamp sitting in the far corner. He tried to move his arms, but without success. All he got for his troubles was the warm sensation of fresh blood as it ran down his hands. Whoever had tied the rope hadn't wanted him to escape easily, especially as they'd tied him to one of the structural beams.

"Ah, I see you've woken up at last Warrick. Do you mind if I call you Warrick or perhaps maybe Rick..of course you don't mind..you don't really have a choice do you? " came the man's voice, somewhere from the shadows. Warrick could hear the man's footsteps as he paced up and down, maintaining his position with the shadows. Warrick didn't respond. "Now now Warrick, where are you manners. Don't you want to know what happened, who I am?"

"Like I need you to tell me where I am."All Warrick got for his troubles was a foot in his stomach.

"There's no need for sarcasm, unless you want another boot in your gut. Well, anyway. You're here, because my brother is in jail, and would you know what...you're half of the pair that's responsible. I couldn't get your friend. Too well lit an area. But you..o boy, you were easy. You didn't even hear me coming. Your friends should be finding out about you soon enough. I left them a note you see, and some of your blood. Made sure I didn't leave any incriminating evidence. I know that's what got my brother caught. But, hopefully, he'll soon be set free, unless you're friends don't really care for you. We'll soon see."

"Brother...?"

"Yes, my brother. Marty Silver. Raped and killed girls. But I want him free. Those girls, they deserved it. They messed him around."

"No," Warrick said, "He's guilty. They didn't do anything to him. He targeted them. Innocent, young women. He's a sick, twisted, bastard."

"Don't talk about my brother like that." He lashed out once more at Warrick. Never had Warrick known the darkness to be so inviting.

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In the alleyway, Grissom, Catherine and Sara were examining the scene before them. Sara and Catherine were processing the scene, taking photos of the crime scene, the position the body was in. Checking for anything that was out of place. Grissom however was watching over the coroner as he did his various tests on the body. He checked the pockets of the dead man. Nothing.

"There's no ID or anything in his pockets Mr Grissom."

"Okay, well, lets get the body back to the autopsy room. Take some fingerprints, see if we can establish an identity. Catherine, Sarah, I'm going back with the body." Grissom examined the body closer, picked up his tweezers and proceeded to recover a blonde hair off of the body. He popped it into an evidence bag. "Hey, I've got a hair. I'll take it back to the lab with me."

Catherine bent down, swabbing a patch of blood. "Yeah, we'll finish processing the scene and meet you back there."

Grissom entered his vehicle and along with the coroner and the dead body, left the scene.

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Across town, Nick had finished processing his crime scene. He'd dusted the window and the surrounding frame for any prints, but he didn't find any. What he did find however was a small, droplet of blood on a shard of glass left in the window. He swabbed it, would get it to Greg as soon as he got back to the lab, but before he went there he had some business to take care of. He'd tried Warrick's mobile a couple of times throughout the night but it just rang. Same for his home phone. He had no idea where his friend was. He'd been in good spirits when they'd parted the previous night. Nick pulled his Tahoe outside Warrick's house. The lights were off. _What is he playing at? _Nick thought to himself. He got of his Tahoe and walked up to the front door, ringing the door bell. No answer. He rang it again, then banged on the door calling Warrick's name. He looked down at the step. And that's when he noticed it. _Blood._ He also noticed a slip of white paper, tucked under the door, but not far enough in to not be noticed. He picked it up, and began to read, eyes wide...

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"Cause of death?" questioned Grissom.

Doc Robbins was bent over the body. He pointed to the left side of the body. "Stab wound, two in fact. One punctured the left lung, piercing the pleura, and lead to air entering the thoracic space. The second, nicked the heart. He had no chance. Put up a fight though. Bruising, fractured ribs, defense wounds on his palms."

"Any ID yet?"

"Well, I printed him just before you arrived. You just need to run them now, see if you get an ID."

The shrill beep of Grissom's phone broke the conversation.

"Grissom,"

"Grissom, it's Nick. I'm at Warrick's house."

"And..?" questioned Grissom,"Where is he?"

"Well, I err, found some blood...and a note...he's been taken hostage."

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**Well, this is the second chapter. I'll update asap. I'm going home tomorrow for a few days so if I get a spare moment, I'll try and update. :D Hope you're enjoying it so far**


	3. The Nightmare Begins

**Disclaimer: Again, I own nothing...o...except the characters that aren't in the show therefore criminals...hmph, unfair.**

**Summary: Warrick failed to turn up for work and now the lab knows why, but what can they do about it?**

**A/N: Thank you to all those that have reviewed. It gives me some confidence to think that my fanfic is a little decent. So, this chapter is for Emmithar, AlexDham & Lauren. :D **

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**Chapter 3: The Nightmare Begins **

Grissom's eyes widened. "Nick, repeat that again. The phone line is playing up."

"I found a note tucked under his door. It says that Warrick has been taken and we need to wait for further instructions. I'm bringing it back to the lab see if I can get any prints off of the letter or saliva from the envelope. I've also swabbed the blood droplets I found on the steps. Likelihood is that it belongs to Warrick, but if he fought back, it may be the perpetrators."

"Ok Nick. Get back here as soon as possible. I'll alert the others and call Brass."

The phone clicked off as Nick hung up the phone.

"Problem?" asked Doc Robbins who, while Grissom was on the phone, finished writing his notes on the unidentified male on the table.

"Yes." Grissom screwed up his face in frustration. "Warrick didn't turn up for work tonight, and now Nick's telling me he's being held hostage somewhere and there's nothing we can do about until we hear from the person who did it."

Doc Robbins walked over to face Grissom, concern etched in his face. He'd known Warrick several years now and had watched with his own eyes the various changes that had occurred within, as he not only fought with his own demons, but as he fought to bring the guilty to justice and restore as much peace as possible to the people left behind. "You know he is strong. He won't give up without any type of fight."

Grissom said nothing as he tore off the protective gown and gloves he was wearing, walking out of the autopsy room, only pausing to throw the disposables in the bin.

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Nick hadn't felt the adrenaline rush through his body at such a high speed before tonight. Warrick was his friend. They watched each others back, '_after all, isn't that what friends are for?'_ Nick thought to himself. _Maybe if we'd left earlier, or, we'd gone back together this wouldn't be happening? _Nick had been torturing himself with the 'what ifs' since he'd found the note.But that didn't matter anymore._ 'I can't dwell on the past, it's the future that's important. That can be changed.' _He'd reached the lab. He'd hardly pulled the key out of the ignition before he jumped out of his Tahoe and raced inside the building heading straight for Greg.

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"Hey Gris, what's with the 911 page? Find anything out about our DB?" Catherine asked as she sauntered into his office followed closely by Sara. The office was familiar territory for them both as they'd been inside often enough. Grissom's office was filled with a number of weird objects, such as a piglet in a jar and a two headed scorpion, and these would often make visitors to the office feel uncomfortable. Sara noted the grim look that Grissom had on his face.

"Something up Grissom? You don't look too happy."

"I'm not happy. I'm not sure how to say this but here goes." He took a deep breath. "Warrick's missing. And I don't mean he just didn't show. It seems as though someone attacked him outside his house last night and has taken him prisoner somewhere."

"Shit," remarked Sara, while Catherine sat there silently, shock obvious in her face, the news sinking in.

It took a moment for Catherine to compose herself. "Surely we can't have this case. We're too close to Warrick. The Sheriff will never al..." Grissom cut her off.

"This is our case. I've spoken to the Sheriff about it."

_Flashback: Grissom is conversing on the phone with the Sheriff "Damn it, I want graveyard on this Sheriff, he's my CSI, my responsibility." _

Catherine stood up, arms folded across her chest. "So what do we do now?"

"For the time being we look for who may have a grudge against Warrick. We don't have much else to go on at the moment. The envelope the note was in and the blood sample Nick retrieved is with Greg. It's high priority. If we can retrieve any DNA or prints it may give us enough to move forward. I want you working on this case only. We'll hand off tonight's cases."

"Wait, you mean Nick discovered the note and blood? How's he taking it?" asked Sara, concern in her voice. She genuinely liked Nick. They played off of one another, one remark for another. Ok, so it was a laugh, but she cared for him, just as she cared for the others. She knew that Nick and Warrick were good friends.

If on cue, Nick walked into Grissom's office, a look of disappointment on his face. "I got no prints off the note at all, and there was no DNA from the envelope. Man it's like he doesn't want us to know who he is."

"Maybe that's the idea." Grissom's voice was sincere. "Sara, I want you with me. We're going to Warrick's house. It's our crime scene. Maybe we can find something that Nick may have missed earlier. Catherine, I want you helping Nick. Sara, Brass is meeting us at the scene." Grissom rose, as did Sara. "If you find anything, call me." Grissom left his office followed by Sara.

"Let's get cracking then shall we Nicky."

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Warrick had no idea how long he'd been out. He remembered vaguely the conversation he had had with someone earlier. _'Someone, but who?' _All he knew was that he was Marty Silver's brother. Him and Nick had worked hard to catch him, and get him convicted. Marty was on death row for killing and raping six girls. At first, he was careful not to leave any evidence behind. But as he stepped up his crimes, he'd made mistakes. Careless ones. Led Nick and Warrick right to him. There was no way that Marty could deny his crimes. Warrick knew he could be here a while. There was no chance that anyone would take that chance and release Marty. One word stood out in Warrick's head. _Justice. _Justice had been done. '_But it's landed me here.' _Warrick was mid-thought when he heard the door click as it opened.

"How's my favourite CSI doing then?" Warrick thought he caught a glimpse of something shine in the shadows.

_'He's toying with me.' Warrick thought to himself. 'He's looking for a reaction, just looking for that one reason to lash out.'_

"Oh come on Warrick, where is your sense of humour. I always thought you were a bit of a joker. Maybe I would have had more fun if I'd have taken Nick instead of you. Okay, you don't have to say a thing. But I'll have my fun nevertheless." The man stepped from the shadows. It was the first time he'd revealed himself to Warrick. He was tall and muscular, and had very short brown hair. He also had a small scar running down the left side of his cheek. In his right hand, he held a small yet sharp looking knife. He twirled it around in his hand. Unfortunately, Warrick knew what was coming next. "Me, you and this knife are going to have some fun together." He strolled over to Warrick, and placed the cool metal blade across his cheek. Warrick braced his body for what was coming. It didn't come. The man got closer to Warrick's head, and whispered in his ear. "My name is Tyrone and I'm Marty Silver's brother. I'm going to make sure you don't forget what you've done to him in a hurry." Warrick cried out in pain as Tyrone sliced the knife in one swift movement down his arm.

"I wonder how your friends will react to a note written in blood," he asked out aloud. "Your blood," once more driving the knife into Warrick's flesh.

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**Hee..I'm evil ending it there..can anyone say cliffhanger much? Hope that this keeps everyone on the edge. Next chapter coming soon...**


	4. Written In Cold Blood

**Disclaimer: Same as usual...I still don't and never will own CSI **

**Summary: Warrick's being tortured and the CSI's have begun their investigation..**

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**Chapter 4: Written In Cold Blood**

There had been no more information on Warrick since Nick had found that first note. They'd exhausted every piece of evidence they had had. Grissom and Sara had found nothing else at Warrick's house. Greg had found no saliva on the envelope: it was self adhesive, and the blood had belonged to Warrick.

"Ah, Grissom," said Catherine, falling into the same pace beside him. "Me and Nick have drawn up a list of people with possible grudges. Only problem is, it's what you'd expect. The only ones on our list are the people he's helped to put away. Other then that, we've got nothing to go on."

"Well it's something. Try and sort the list into types of crimes. Burglaries, murders and so on. The more serious the crime, the more likely someone is going to be pissed off about it. See if you can narrow it down a bit." Normally Grissom managed to keep his emotions in check but he was beginning to worry. Warrick was a good CSI even though he had his problems. Grissom knew that the more hours that passed in a hostage situation, the less chance they had of finding them alive. Grissom went to his office, throwing the paperwork that he had been carrying onto his desk. Sitting at the edge of his desk was a pile of letters. It wasn't unusual for him to have some when he came into work. He sifted through the pile. As he did, one particular letter stood out. He read it.

_Warrick Brown, c/o Mr Gil Grissom. Las Vegas Crime Lab. 'Odd' thought Grissom. 'Why send it...Ohhhhhh.' _He pulled out a pair of latex gloves that he kept in the top drawer of his desk and then carefully opened the envelope. Tucked inside was a folded piece of plain white paper. He carefully unfolded it, revealing an A4 sized sheet of paper. It was written in a childlike scrawl and something, Grissom realised, that wasn't a conventional writing tool. He set it aside and paged Catherine, Nick and Sara and also got in contact with Brass. This was something they all had to see. It was what they had been waiting for._ Maybe a lead at last._

It didn't take them long to arrive. Sara was the first to speak.

"News from the kidnapper?"

"Yes. I wanted you all to be here to hear it." Grissom proceeded to read it out to the group.

_'Dear Mr Grissom, oh, and the rest of your CSI's. As you are already well aware, I have taken CSI Brown as my hostage. He's alive, for the meantime. His life depends on one thing: the release of a specific prisoner on death row. Marty Silver. Release him, or Brown gets it. Justice or friendship. You choose. The ball is in your court. Make any attempt to find us and I will kill him also. You have three days to reach your decision. I will contact you at the end of those three days.'_

"That's it? That's what this person wants?" asked Catherine. Nick rammed his fist into the wall. Grissom understood why.

"Geesh. He wants him released?" Nick said in frustration. 'Why Warrick though?I helped him put Marty away." He drove his fist into the wall again.

"Nick, I think you should go home. Calm yourself down. You're no use to Warrick like this," Grissom said. Nick opened his mouth to argue but was silenced by Grissom. "Go, home, Nick. Come back in a few hours." He didn't argue and left the office.

"Want me to get that note to Greg?" asked Sarah

"Yeah. While you're there ask him to see if he can find out what it's written in. Somehow I don't think that's a standard Biro." Sara stood up, pulling a glove from her lab coat pocket and took the note of Grissom. "Will do," she responded as she exited Grissom's office and made her way to Greg in the DNA lab. This left Brass, Catherine and Grissom alone in the office together.

Brass had sat there throughout the whole thing, fiddling with his fingers. He was agitated. He liked Warrick. At a time they didn't see eye to eye, but Brass came to respect him. He broke the silence. "Based on that letter, what do you think the likelihood of us finding him alive actually is?" He didn't mean to be that frank, but he knew that the others were thinking exactly the same thing, even if they tried not to show it. "I mean, who's going to release a rapist and killer back onto the streets?"

"I don't know," replied Catherine, sighing heavily. Her eyes glistened as what looked like tears formed in her eyes. But she didn't cry.

"Me neither." Grissom dazed into the distance, unconsciously focusing on Sara comforting Nick outside in the hallway. "But we're going to do everything in our power to find him, even if it means standing up to the Sheriff."

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Warrick wasn't sure how much more his body could cope with. He was weak. He could feel it. Tyrone had spent _hours? _introducing Warrick to that knife. Slice after slice after slice. At one point Warrick made a remark about not being a chicken on a dinner table and ended up with a fist in his chest, severely winding him. But he couldn't give up without a fight. His friends were out there, searching for him. When they found him, he didn't want to be carried out in a body bag, or end up on the cold steel table in the autopsy room. It put things in perspective for him though. _'Nobody is invincible.' _Warrick knew that he was well built and could pack a punch if need be. He _thought _he could handle himself if he was attacked. Obviously he was wrong. Tyrone hadn't been in for a while. Who knows what he was up to. At that moment, the door opened. Tyrone walked in.

"We're going on a little trip Warrick."

"Well, I hope it's somewhere better then here," Warrick replied. He wasn't going to give Tyrone the satisfaction that he was beating him, even if it did mean more pain.

"Not really. But we're playing a little game with your friends. Warrick heard another voice and realised Tyrone was not alone. _'Figures, thought Warrick. Would be difficult to execute something like this on his own.' _"Now do I use the chloroform or something else?" Warrick hoped it would be the chloroform. "I'm thinking not the chloroform." Tyrone laughed menacingly, kicking Warrick in the ribs. He heard a crack, followed by an intense sharp pain. He let the darkness swallow him. Anything was better than the pain.

_'I thought I was a bit ambitious to hope for the chloroform' _

* * *

Greg hurriedly made his way from the DNA lab. He was in such a hurry he didn't noticed Sara coming in the opposite direction and walked straight in her.

"Are you okay Greg?"

His face was red, and he seemed breathless. "Have you seen Grissom?"

"Yeah. He's gone with Catherine and Brass to see Marty Silver. See if they can get any information from him. Why? What did you find?"

'_Should I tell her, or shouldn't I?' he thought to himself._ He looked at her face and saw the concern in her eyes. _'She ought to know what I've found.'_

"Erm, I found out what was used to write the note." He took a breath. "It was _his _blood Sara. He's torturing him. He's toying with us."

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**Well, that's this chapter over. I thought it was time to bring Greg into it. I'll try and get the next pert up as soon as possible but I've got a lot of work to do. Enjoy**

**A/N – Went back and changed the name of the rapist. I accidently made a booboo in this chapter and changed his surname and I didn't pick it up before I went to bed. Thanks to Crystalwitch for noticing it. :D**


	5. Torment

**Disclaimer: Same old...CSI doesn't belong to me in any way**

**Summary: I'm still being evil and torturing Warrick. **

**A/N: Thank-you for all the reviews. It keeps me inspired. Crystalwitch: Thanks for pointing my error out. Also, I do feel guilty for torturing Warrick like that..**

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**Chapter 5: Torment**

The humming of the engine woke Warrick up. He felt extremely drowsy. Not surprising really, considering what his body had been through the last couple of days. He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. He'd been gagged._ 'To stop me making a noise if I woke up?'_ he pondered. His hands were still bound behind his back, but no longer with rope. The vehicle went over a series of bumps in the road. _'Like I haven't got a big enough headache as it is.' _The vehicle came to an abrupt halt and the ignition cut out. Warrick heard the front door close, and then the click of a key turning in the lock of the back door. The door opened and Tyrone stepped into the back of the van.

"Oi you get up and do as I say." He grabbed Warrick by the collar of his shirt, dragging him and throwing out of the van. Warrick landed painfully on the ground. _'O yeah. It would be nice to lie here for a while.' _He felt a pair of hands grab him round the back of his neck again, almost pulling him to their destination. The other man who was with them walked ahead. As of yet, Warrick hadn't managed to catch a glimpse of his face. They were approaching what looked like an abandoned house. He didn't think it was abandoned,more likely that it had been deprived of some tender love and care. They entered it, where he was immediately bundled into a blacked out room. In the centre sat a single, wooden chair.

"Sit," Tyrone growled. He then turned to his accomplice. "Go get the stuff ready." He reached into his pocket and pulled out some cuffs, locking Warrick's right arm to the back of the chair. Tyrone made his way to the door and shouted up the stairs. "Hurry up with that will ya." He also removed the gag from his mouth.

"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying," came the voice from above. "It'll be about five minutes."

Warrick spoke, slowly and quietly. He was in pain and knew he needed medical attention. "What are you going to achieve by doing this huh?"

"Well, other then the freedom of my brother? I don't know. I want your friends to suffer like I have. I want you to suffer like he has."

"You know they'll find me don't you? None of this will make a difference." Warrick wasn't sure how convincing he sounded. Part of him wasn't sure whether he even believed it. Even if he was found, it didn't necessarily mean alive. But it was something to hold on for.

Tyrone turned to face him, but didn't respond. He lent against the wall, staring at Warrick. A few minutes passed. The silence was broken by heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. The other man walked in the room,carrying a large metal container by the handle. Wrapped around the handle was a thick piece of cloth, and Warrick noticed large metal rods poking out of the top. He sat it down next to Tyrone.

"Here you go." This man was shorter than Tyrone and had a mop of dirty blond hair.

"Good." responded Tyrone, still not taking his eyes off of Warrick. He spoke again, this time to Warrick. "Let's see, we've done sharp and blunt, now we're going to do hot. I haven't really had any screams of agony from you. I'm disappointed. I want to hear you scream." He pulled out a small tape recorder from his pocket. "Oh, don't worry about this. It's just to record those screams." He laughed and hit the record button.

"You'll never he.." Warrick began but was cut off.

"Never say never Warrick." He lifted a metal rod from the bucket. It was glowing red. He walked over to Warrick, ripping apart the remainder of his shirt. "Never...say..never," he screamed as he forced the rod onto Warrick's chest, the smell of burning flesh filling the room. Warrick couldn't help but yell.

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**Ok..I know I'm evil This scene is of relevance. Sorry it's short. I'll update soon.**


	6. Turbulence

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI...if I did I wouldn't need a degree because I'd have money in the bank.**

**Summary: The CSI's received a letter and are working out what to do next. This takes place at the same time as the last chapter is taking place if that makes sense :D **

**A/N: Thinking of renaming myself Queen Meanie. Lol. Again, thanks for the reviews. It's nice to think that people like the stuff you write. **

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Chapter 6: Turbulence

Catherine, Grissom and Brass were leaving the steel gates of the prison where Marty Silver was being held and proceeded to get into the Tahoe. Grissom got into the back and Brass the passengers side, while Catherine got into the drivers seat. She turned the key and started the engine. With the handbrake still on, she fastened her seatbelt. Making sure the others had done the same, she took the hand brake off and drove away.

"That seems to have been a waste of time," Brass said. "He didn't give us a damn thing."

"Well what did you expect," Catherine replied, eyes on the road. She put her foot on the brake as they approached a red traffic light. She faced Brass. "I mean, to him, it's Nicky and Warrick's fault. It wouldn't surprise me if he is hiding something." The traffic light turned green again.

Grissom, who had sat silently in the back, deep in thought spoke. "Neither of them are responsible. They just did their job, which is to interpret the evidence. The only one responsible is Marty. He committed those crimes."

"Yeah well, I've been thinking." Brass started. "I know Nick is your CSI, but you've already lost one team member, and we still have no idea who it is. I want to put a couple of my guys on watch outside his house, just in case they try anything on him."

"Mm. I'm not sure how he'll react to that."

"O come on Gil. Better to be safe then sorry eh?

"I'll talk to him when he comes into the lab. I'm thinking of taking him of this case," Grissom said.

"He certainly won't like that Gil," came Catherine's voice from the front seat. "He wants to help. We all do."

"He's too emotional. You saw how he acted earlier. We can't compromise this case. Yes, it's someone close to us, but we have to treat this like any other case." Nobody said another word as Catherine continued driving back to the lab.

* * *

Nick was back at the lab. He'd only been able to sit at home for a few hours. It was driving him insane._ How can I sit there and do nothing when my friend is in trouble? _He'd been having trouble sleeping, kept reliving that night over and over again in his head. He headed to the break room, and saw Sara sitting there, hunched over a cold cup of coffee.

"Hey," Nick said weakly, dropping down into a seat opposite Sara.

"Hey Nick. You back already?"

"Yeah. I couldn't sit at home and not do anything. I feel," he paused, "I feel guilty. As though I'm responsible." He put his hands up to his head, letting his arms take its weight.

"You know, you're not responsible. Neither of you were to know what was going to happen. Don't beat yourself up over it. You'll only feel worse. You'll make yourself ill. Then you won't be able to work and you won't be able to find this guy."

"I just, I don't understand why he didn't fight back. There was nothing at the scene to suggest any sort of struggle. I just keep thinking that if may be we hadn't have gone to the bar, or if we'd stayed out later we wouldn't be in this. Geesh, it should have been me."

"Slow down Nick You don't mean that. He wouldn't want you to be in that situation just as you wish he weren't." Sara stood up. "I need to see Greg. See if he's found anything." She put her hand on Nick's shoulder reassuringly. "We'll find him." She left the break room and headed down the corridor to Greg in the lab.

* * *

The DNA lab was normally a noisy place when Greg Sanders was around. He always had some music on, the volume at its highest. Not today though. It felt inappropriate. He'd scrutinised every part of the letter for foreign DNA, but so far had nothing._ 'It's like he's invisible. As though he's a ghost.'_

"You got anything Greg?" asked Sara as she walked up behind Greg. He shook his head.

"Nothing. No foreign DNA whatsoever."

"They knows what they're doing. I'm going to try to get some prints off of it. You never know, they may have slipped up." She picked up the evidence bag which contained the letter and then left Greg along in the silence of the lab.

* * *

Grissom, Catherine and Brass got out of the Tahoe and walked into the lab, heading past the break room. As they did, Grissom noticed Nick sitting at the table, lost in thought. He motioned to Catherine and Brass. "Go on ahead, I'll be in my office in a few minutes." He walked into the break room, closing the door firmly behind him. "You okay Nick?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I couldn't stay at home."

"Nick." Grissom sat down at the table where Sara had sat earlier. "Brass is getting a couple of his guys to shadow you and stand guard at your house."

Nick looked up. "Why?"

"Because we don't know if they'll be after you next. We've already got one CSI missing and we don't want another. The cards are already in their hands. I'm also taking you off the case."

"What? Why?"

"You're not doing anyone any favours in this state. We've got two days Nick. Two days to find out who's behind this. If we don't, then, well, I don't want to think about it."

"But I want to help. I..I have to."

"If you wanted to help, you'd go home and let us deal with it."

Nick's face was flushed red. He didn't know whether to be angry, upset or both.

"Fine," he shouted at Grissom as he stood up, sending the chair flying and storming out of the break room.

Grissom felt guilty. He's always been accused of lacking emotion. It's not that he didn't have emotions, he'd just learnt to separate them from the job. _Emotions can destroy you in this job. _He rubbed his hand over his eyes. There was no denying that he was tired. At that moment Sara came rushing into the lab.

"I have it," she said triumphantly.

"Have what?" he asked puzzled.

"Well, Greg didn't pull any foreign DNA of off that second letter or envelope, so I tested for prints. There were none on the actual letter, but I found a partial on the envelope." Grissom's eyes lit up

"And?"

"And I'm running it as we speak."

* * *

**Ok, sorry this is...short. Just to warn you, I may not be updating until Sunday at the earliest, unless I can tap out a chapter tomorrow. Just my friend is coming down and we're going to see We Will Rock You and shop on Saturday and then I'm going home for the Easter. But I'll try not to keep you waiting too long.**


	7. Putting A Name To The Face

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately I do not own CSI**

**Summary: One 'small' piece of evidence is found but is it what it seems?**

**A/N: Again, thank-you for the reviews. Also, sorry this has taken me so long. I had a few days off to see my friends and travel home, but now my laptop is being mended. So I had to wait until my sister was at school so I could use the PC insert evil laugh here and rewrite the chapter seeing as I was half way through it when it decided not to turn on/crash & reboot. So, enjoy :D**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Putting a Name to the Face**

Grissom and Sara were continuing their conversation in the break room.

"I've excluded two other sets of prints on the envelope as yours and the secretaries." She paused. "What is the likelihood that this print belongs to a postman?" Sara asked Grissom in a matter of fact tone.

"If it had come from a sorting office you would have found more then a partial because it would have been handled by several other workers," replied Grissom.

"Well, if it wasn't sent through the post then how did it get in here?" She grinned as her eyes lit up. "CCTV."

"Bringing it straight into the lab would be risky. I'll go grab the security tapes and get them to Archie. See if we can find something on any of them." Grissom rose. "Come and find me when you get the results." He left the break room, heading to retrieve security footage from the previous few days, leaving Sara standing there in her navy blue lab coat, arms folded across her chest.

* * *

Catherine really didn't want to take the day off of work. There were so many background checks she still had to look into, the priority being close relatives to Marty Silver. However, she couldn't forget the fact that she had a daughter, Lindsay Willows, who she spent very little time with on a regular basis. Of course, she tried to fit in as much time as possible with her, but juggling a full time job with long hours and a young child came with its difficulties. Lindsay was still asleep as it was the early hours of the morning. Catherine sometimes had trouble sleeping through the night as normally she'd be wide awake and working, and this particular night was no exception. She sat at the table, head over a bundle of papers. The stereo was playing in the background on a low volume relaxing music coming from the speakers, but she felt anything other than relaxed. So far she'd discovered that Marty Silver's father had died when Marty was two years old, which left him and his mother, along with Marty's twin sister Susan, who, it had appeared, moved abroad three years ago after the death of their mother, Marie-Anne Silver. Marie-Anne had had another relationship after the death of her husband and together they had two children. Other then being two boys, currently she had no more information on them. Looking at Marty's history though, he'd been placed in a care home when he was ten years old. It would seem as though his mother could no longer care for her rebellious son who had been troublesome in school. Sighing, she stood up and went over to the kitchen. She filled the kettle up with water and flicked the switch, turning the kettle on. Soon it would be time to wake Lindsay and get her ready for school before turning in for a few hours sleep and reporting what she'd found to Grissom.

* * *

Grissom had collected the tapes from the security cameras and had taken them to Archie. Archie was an expert when it came to technology but Grissom insisted that he sat in with Archie as he reviewed the tapes. One set of eyes may miss something, either ordinary or not. Two hopefully would not. Together they would have to review several days of footage after the kidnapping as Grissom had no idea what the exact time frame of the letter arriving in the building to it being put in the letter tray on his desk was.

"So what are we looking for exactly?" Archie asked Grissom, eyes remaining on the large screen in front of him.

"I'm not quite sure yet," replied Grissom. "We get a large number of people through out doors each day for various things. We need to review all of these tapes," he said putting his hand on the relatively large pile of tapes on top of the desk. "We've got no time frame to really work with so we can't narrow it down. We need to look for something out of the ordinary, perhaps suspicious. Until we find it, we won't know what it is."

"Lets get started then shall we?" Archie remarked, hitting the play button.

* * *

Nick was still angry with Grissom's decision. He didn't understand why he couldn't help, after all, Warrick was just as much his friend as theirs, and Nick had been on the case with Warrick. Instead though, he'd been resigned to sit at home with police posted at his door. _'Brass' orders' he thought. 'I thought he would understand. We need everyone on this.' _He hoped the others at the lab were doing all they could. The Sheriff knew of the ongoing investigation into the missing CSI and the circumstances surrounding it. The Sheriff however was as stubborn as he was naïve. He didn't realise the severity that was involved. To the Sheriff Warrick Brown was a CSI. He wasn't a friend, someone he knew. The only thing they had in common was that they wanted the bad guys behind bars. Nick could imagine the Sheriff's response. _'No, we can't consider his release. Not even for the life of a CSI. Justice has to be served. He's guilty, we all know he is. Find another way. We don't want the public worrying.'_

"Like we're not trying," Nick half scoffed to himself and the empty sitting room. He knew he couldn't go back to the lab because as soon as he did, Grissom would be straight on his case. Hopefully though he could persuade Catherine to let him help her with her background research. _'After all' he thought, 'I have first hand knowledge on this case.'_

* * *

"Stop the tape Archie," Grissom said suddenly. Archie did as Grissom asked. There on the screen in front of them was what would seem to anyone a normal scene. They'd already noted the postman delivering that days post, so, when Grissom spotted a figure entering the lab with what looked like an envelope in his hand and placing it on the front desk, before promptly leaving, he instantly got Archie to freeze the tape. "Can you zoom in on what's in his hand?" he asked Archie.

"Yeah sure," he replied, drawing a box around the man's hand and allowing the resolution to gradually adjust itself. Once the pixels had settled down, both Archie and Grissom could make out what was written on the envelope in his hand. '_Warrick Brown, c/o Mr Gil Grissom. Las Vegas Crime Lab.' _

"That's the guy," Grissom said. "See if you can get any facial shots of him," he ordered as he went searching for Sara.

* * *

Sara was still running the partial she had found on the envelope. It was proving a troublesome task, but Sara was one to persevere no matter what. She was staring at the fingerprints flashing on the screen when Grissom interrupted her.

"You found anything yet?"

"No," she said, sounding disheartened. "It's still running. Hopefully I'll get a hit soon. Did you can anything from the security tapes?"

"Well, we've got a shot of him walking in to the lab and leaving the letter on the reception desk. Archie is trying to get a clear shot of the guys face. Hopefully we'll get something from that. I'm going to ring Catherine, she if she's found anything."

"Okay," replied Sara. "Hey, what about Nick?" she asked

"I sent him home. I don't want him here unless it's absolutely necessary. I understand this is getting to us now, but Nick was over emotional. Plus we're still not sure who's behind this and if they've got Warrick, they may go after him."

Sara nodded while Grissom left Sara alone once more, finger prints still flashing furiously on the screen.

* * *

Grissom was on the phone to Catherine, filling her in on the security footage that they'd discovered. He'd woken her from her sleep but he needed to know if she'd found anything. With any luck, if Archie could get a clear photo still they could match it to someone on her list. Catherine relayed everything she'd found out so far to Grissom.

"I'm still trying to find out the names of the other two sons," Catherine replied. "I think we can rule out the sister: she's been abroad for three years now and seems to have severed any ties to the family since her mother died. Apart from that, I've got nothing else for the time being."

Grissom, who had had the arm of his glasses resting on his bottom lip while Catherine was talking responded with a simple "Ok."

"Call me if you find anything else," he added before Catherine hung up the phone. He sat in his chair, thought etched in his face. He was disturbed by a small knock on his door. Archie was standing there.

"I've got some screen shots. They're not too great as he was trying to hide his face." He passed the images to Grissom.

"It's something," he simply replied.

* * *

Warrick ached. A lot. The stench of burning flesh lingered in the air, causing him to gag. _'My flesh..if I have any left that is,' _he thought to himself. He'd been out cold for a while but he could remember he'd been moved, once again shoved into a dark room and tortured with red hot metal. _'Not my personal choice of torture equipment.' _His breathing was now laboured as he was struggling to fully inflate his lungs because of the injuries inflicted on his upper torso. The candles set out around the seat were flickering as the wicks had nearly burnt out. He could hear nothing coming from anywhere in the house. He pulled his arms, but the handcuff attaching him to the chair dug tightly into his wristHe had to get out of there before they killed him._ 'Time for plan B' he thought to himself. _

Despite the fact he was awkwardly attached to the chair, he managed to stand on his feet, lifting the chair with his tied hands. He stood there a few moments catching his breath. He'd been beaten badly and had little energy left. He made his way over to the door, which had been left slightly ajar. He listened but heard nothing. He lent on the door, allowing it to open as far as it could go. He waited at the bottom of the stairs for a while, just in case someone happened to be about but he didn't hear them. Still he heard nothing. He made his way carefully up the stairs. If he lost his balance he was going straight back down them head first. He made his way to the top._ 'Now all I've got to do is find a way out.' _He didn't know what he was actually going to do if he did make it outside the house.

* * *

"Hey Grissom," Sara called down the hallway enthusiastically. "I got a hit. The print belongs to a Jason Green. He's been in prison, although his offences were minor. Robbery to be precise."

"Does he look like this?" asked Grissom, handing one of the stills Archie had produced earlier on to Sara.

She smiled. "Yes he does. We've found the guy?"

"Perhaps. I'll call Brass and Catherine, tell them to get here straight away."

"What about Nick?"

"No, don't call Nick yet," Grissom replied, rushing to his office to place his calls.

* * *

Warrick had had no luck as yet with either the front or back door. They were both locked. He'd searched around the kitchen and living room but had found no keys. He couldn't say he hadn't tried to escape. Feeling tired he sat down, hands still tied to the chair. He wanted this to be over. His eyelids were too heavy for him to keep open any longer. He didn't fight as the blackness settled around him. Anytime soon, Tyrone and his partner would return, finding Warrick slumped in the chair, no longer in the basement.

* * *

**Woo, this is..longer then my other chapters. It's to make up for the lack of updates lately. I hope you enjoyed even though there was a lot of descriptive bits in it :D Announcers voice: 'Tune in next week...' lol. Hopefully I'll get the next chapter out tomorrow. I've got some spare time on my hands this evening. **


	8. The End of the Road?

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, but I wish I did...as I bet most of you out there do :(**

**Summary: The CSI's are one step closer, but can Warrick survive... (o, I am evil)**

**A/N: Thanks for all the nice reviews :D I want to apologise though for the lack of updates. My laptop won't turn on now and the makers didn't want to know originally when we tried to get it sent for repair..yes after 3 weeks we finally got the telephone care line to take it in...but, their computers have crashed so UPS won't be picking it up until Tuesday, when I'm in London at Uni, so I have no idea when it's going to be back for me to update again, but, I'll work on it on paper and will hopefully have the remainder of the story by the time it comes back :)On a random note...'Don't you see, we're a threat..a virus..on their hard drive. And they won't give up until they've pointed their little arrow at us..and dragged us to trash.'**

* * *

**Chapter 8: The End of the Road?**

The clock was ticking. The three days were almost over and contact would once again be made. Everyone at the lab was feeling both tired and tense. However, they had found one key piece in the form of a partial print on the envelope. What made their day however, was that they'd discovered who the print was from. Catherine and Brass arrived at the lab at exactly the same time, while Sara pressured Grissom into letting Nick know what they'd discovered, hoping at least it would give him some peace of mind.

After filling in Catherine and Brass quickly, all three made their way down the corridor towards the exit. Sara joined them, holding a piece of paper in her right hand, and wrestling with a lightweight jacket in her left.

"I've got the printout of the address," she said, referring the the paper she held in her hand.

"I've radioed for some backup," replied Brass. "We don't know if it's where he's holding Warrick, so it's better to be safe then sorry." All four of them stepped outside, the bright sun on the horizon. It was early in the morning, perhaps a better time for the coming raid. _'The element of surprise.'_

Brass got into his car. "I'll see you guys there," he said, closing the door behind him. Catherine, Grissom and Sara got in the Tahoe, Catherine in the drivers side, Sara in the passengers seat and Grissom opting for the back seat. Catherine turned the key in the ignition and reversed out of the parking space, heading down the street which Brass sped down only moments before.

* * *

"In, out, in, out shake it all about," came the taunting voice from the shadows. The smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air. Air that already smelt of stale blood and burnt flesh. "I'm impressed. In theory you should already be dead. But no, you're still breathing, albeit, with difficulty, and you even have the strength to haul yourself up the stairs in an attempt to escape." Tyrone moved towards Warrick, in a menacing fashion, his face full of anger. He lashed out. "Don't try that again, if not, you're a dead man, you hear me." The force of the blow caused blood to flow into Warrick's mouth. He spat it out, straight at Tyrone.

"Why you..." he lashed out again. Warrick didn't even flinch. He didn't want to show he was in pain, he didn't want to show he was afraid he was going to die. He knew it would be used against him. The fact that Warrick didn't show no pain seemed to aggravate Tyrone further. Tyrone grabbed Warrick's arm, which was still attached to the chair with both arms and twisted. The sound of snapping bone filled the room. Warrick winced as fresh pain flew throughout his body.

"That's better," said Tyrone. "Anything else?" he asked, sneering.

"Yeah," whispered Warrick. "Even if you killed me, you'd still fail. You're a failure.You're.." he paused, "crazy. You'll see you're brother alright..you'll be right with him."

The sound of wind rushing could be heard as a baseball bat was swung, heading straight for Warrick.

* * *

They drove up the street, which itself was a rather modest one. The house in question however, looked to have been neglected over a number of years. Catherine pulled their Tahoe behind Brass' car, which was out of sight. Catherine noticed Brass talking with some of the police officers at the scene. After Catherine had stopped the Tahoe, she, along with Grissom and Sara got out, prompting Brass to finish his conversation and walk over to the three CSI's who were waiting by the Tahoe.

"I've briefed the officers, now all there is left to do is get in there. We'll go in first, check the place out, you can follow up the rear. Get your weapons out just in case," Brass said. He walked back towards the other officers.

"It's almost over," said Catherine, staring at the house.

"Don't get your hopes up just yet," replied Grissom. "We still don't know he's in there." He picked up his kit from the trunk ."Ready?"

"As ready as ever," Sara chipped in. They headed over to where Brass was waiting.

"All set?" asked Brass. Grissom nodded.

Brass signalled to the other officers. They crept up to the house, keeping out of sight. He banged on the door three times.

"Police, open up!"

* * *

Silence. He banged again. Still nothing. He signalled to an officer towards the rear who was carrying a ram, and he promptly rushed to the door, taken in down in one single blow. Brass cautiously made his way inside, gun out in front, the officers behind following suit. He signalled towards the rear for someone to clear the up stairs, while he, along with some others, cleared the ground. Catherine, Sara and Grissom were at the rear and also had their weapons out. The upstairs was clear, as was the ground floor.

"Basement," Grissom said. Brass nodded. With Brass up front, they headed towards the basement. Gun still in hand, he opened the door and cautiously stepped inside. He flashed his torch into the darkness. No-one was there, but he continued down the stairs.

"Shit," Brass simply said.

"We're too late. They've already gone." Sara said, staring at the pool of blood in the middle of the room.

"Get me a sample of the blood," said Grissom, holstering his gun. "I'll take it back to the lab with me, check it out. The kidnapper may try to get in touch again. Catherine, help Sara process the scene. Don't let anybody else down here until you've finished." He made his way up the basement stairs again.

"You think we're too late?" Brass asked, still staring at the scene in front of them.

"I hope not," replied Catherine as she went to take a sample of the blood.

* * *

**Ok. Sorry it was so long coming. Next chapter may take a while..no laptop no chapter. Sorry, but I'll update as soon as I can. Squidggle **


	9. One Step Closer

**Disclaimer: Same as always. I don't own CSI, but it would be nice dreams **

**A/N: Sorry it took so long coming. In the end I had to be given a new laptop (which I must say is much better and looks way cooler than the other one) and also I've had Uni exams and my muse left me for a while. But, I hope you enjoy this long awaited chapter :) Also, I'm almost done with torturing Warrick.. almost **

* * *

**Chapter 9: One Step Closer**

The shrill cry of the phone brought Grissom out of his trance. Hopefully, this would be the kidnapper, and being desperate, they'd set up a trace line in the hope of establishing some sort of lead. Composing himself, Grissom picked up the phone.

"Hello," he said.

"Ahh, hello Mr Grissom. How are you on this fine day?" asked the sinister voice on the end of the phone.

"Fine," Grissom snapped.

"Now now, there's no need for that type of behaviour. It may influence my next actions." There was a pause. "I understand that you've already seen what I've done."

"Yes we have," he replied, grimly. He looked over to where the tracking equipment was set up, to see if they've picked up a location.

'Got anything yet,' Grissom mouthed.

Brass, who was standing behind the locator device shook his head, before mouthing back.

'Keep talking. We should have him soon.'

Grissom went back to talking over the phone.

"I hope you've left my CSI alive though."

"Well, I thought I'd leave the detective work up to you Mr Grissom. Now, lets discuss my terms. Did you have much time to consider them? I do hope you did."

"Yes, the Sheriff did."

"And?"

"And before Marty can be considered for release, we need to know that CSI Brown is ok," Grissom said, thought etched on his face.

"Hmmm," Tyrone sounded. "What would it take me to do to get him released? I do hope you're keeping a good eye on Nick Stokes. It would be a tragedy to lose two CSI's. I'll ring back within the hour, and I do hope that the nice Sheriff has come up with a decision."

The phone line beeped as the phone was hooked up.

"Did you get a location?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah," replied Brass. "It's a phone box in a relatively secluded spot. I'm going to head out their, do some surveillance, see if I can spot him next time he places that call."

"Take Sara with you. We may be able to gather some evidence."

* * *

Grissom went in search of Catherine.

"Cath, did you ever find out the names of those other two boys?" he asked.

"Yeah. I put them in your office. Didn't you get them?" Grissom shook his head. She began to ruffle through some papers on her desk.

"Ah, here you go," she said, handing the piece of paper to Grissom.

"Marie-Anne never remarried, but after the birth of the two boys, she gave them their father's surname, Bale. That's why I was having difficulty finding them. Anyway, I did some background checks. Daniel Bale, well, he's a lawyer, wife, two kids. No previous record. Tyrone on the other hand has a few minors. Theft, things like that."

Grissom looked at the criminal record.

"I need to see Jason Green's prison record. I have a feeling that they were in there together."

* * *

Warrick woke up, but wished he hadn't. His body was burning, aching, and his lungs felt as though they were fit to burst. The house was eerily quiet but he had neither the urge or the ability to try another escape.

_'I hope I'm out of here soon,' he sighed._

Although he didn't hold _that_ much hope.

* * *

Nick thundered into Grissom's office.

"Why didn't you tell me what you found?"

Grissom looked at Nick.

"Because I didn't think you were ready to be told," he simply replied. "But, now that you're here, I may as well tell you."

Grissom told Nick what they'd found and the current course of action.

"If you are ready, you may work on this case, but from a distance," Grissom said.

Before Nick had the chance to reply, the Sheriff walked into the office.

"What right do you have to do what I told you not to do?" he fumed. "I told you that he was not going to be released."

Grissom was about to reply, but Nick beat him to it.

"And what right to you have to sacrifice a good member of the CSI team."

"Nick, wait outside,"Grissom ordered. Nick stormed out.

"I'm sorry I went against you're orders Sheriff. But this is a member of my CSI team, and I had to keep them talking. We think we know who is behind it and have to find him and by telling him that, we give him hope that Marty will be released, as well, hopefully, ensuring the safe return of Warrick Brown."

"I hope you're right about this," the Sheriff said. "Because if you're not, you're job is on the line." He left Grissom's office.

* * *

Catherine was outside of Grissom's office when the talk with the Sheriff was going on. After seeing him leave, she entered the office.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"O, it doesn't matter. What have you found?"

"I've got several addresses that Tyrone could be residing at, and one of them is in the area that call was placed."

"Call Brass," Grissom said, looking at his watch. "We've got half an hour before we get that second phone call and perhaps we can end this case then and there."

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed :)**


	10. Explanations

**Disclaimer: Same as normal...I do not own CSI, or any of the characters that you recognise from the show.**

**A/N: Very large apologies for the fact I've only got this down now. I had lots of exams, plus a big block on what I wanted to write, as well as the need for a summer job to help me through Uni. But, I've finally gotten round to it, and I know what I want to write, so I hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Explanations**

Jim Brass was in a hurry. He had under half an hour to get to the area where the last phone call was placed, to try and catch the guy there and then. He'd radioed for back-up in the form of plain clothes officers before he left the crime lab, but he was cautious as he didn't want to scare the guy off.

_'People do desperate things in times of desperation,'_ he thought to himself silently, accelerating some more.

* * *

Grissom and the other CSI's were seated around a large table, where in this last half an hour they were going over the evidence that they'd found, in the hope they could at least pin point a location.

"Brass is on his way out to the area the call was placed," Grissom began. "He's taken some plain clothed officers just in case."

"We've also got," continued Catherine, "A few possible locations that Jason Green could be residing at in that area. Looking at the evidence we've gathered, it would seem as though Jason Green was in jail with one Tyrone Bale, who we believe are executing this together. They were both in prison at the same time for minor offences."

Sara was looking through the case files so far. Nick was listening to Grissom and Catherine as he had now been allowed back into the case.

"Who's Tyrone Bale?" Nick asked, sounding confused.

Grissom looked at Catherine before beginning.

"Tyrone Bale is Marty's younger brother." Nick's eyes widened. "Or, half brother to be more precise," continued Grissom. "So far, we don't know how he's involved in this, or whether he's involved at all, but, looking through Jason Green's prison records, we discovered that they were both in prison together."

Nick looked at Grissom, and Sara lifted her head from the case files.

"Which means," continued Catherine, "That perhaps he is involved. Currently we know that Jason Green delivered the letter, and it was his print we found on the envelope. We found some evidence of Tyrone at the house, and from what we've seen, these guys are dangerous."

Nick rubbed his head in his hands.

"How come we never knew he had a brother? We never found anything that would suggest he had one," Nick said.

"I was searching Marty's family history, and it took me a while to find it," Catherine explained. "It wasn't until Grissom searched through Jason's prison records that we discovered they were in prison together."

"What's the plan then?" asked Sara. "I mean, obviously we're not going to get Marty released, but how else can we help get Warrick back?"

"We're going to have to try and make him believe that the Sheriff has agreed to let Marty go," explained Grissom. "I don't know how easy this will be, and then if he'll make any other demands. But we've got to try it. It's what he wants. Hopefully then, he'll let his guard down."

"And if he doesn't?" Nick asked, his voice faltering.

The room filled with silence as no-one replied. Several sets of eyes now staring at the phone, as if willing it to ring. The phone however did not ring. It was if it was taunting them. More silence followed. After several minutes however, the ringing of the phone pierced the air, and everyone looked, hoping this would lead to the air. Grissom held up his hand as though stopping the others from talking, and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" Grissom said, his voice composed.

"Hello Mr Grissom," the now familiar voice on the end of the phone sneered. "I hope that you and the Sheriff have reached a conclusion as your time is running out." There was a pause. "So what is it going to be?"

"We've considered your offer, and we are willing to release Marty, but only when we know that our CSI is safe."

There was another pause.

"I thought I told you before. I have the cards Mr Grissom. And how do I know that you are telling me the truth. I know you traced my earlier call. I suppose in the hope of nailing me there and then. But I've taken precautions.I knew that the cops would go to where the last call was placed. I warned you earlier what would happen if you tried and crossed me."

"Need I remind you of what is at stake here," he said coldly. The sound of a tape recorder could be heard in the background, buttons being flicked on and off. After a few seconds, vivid yells of pain could be heard over the tape.

_Flashback: "Good." responded Tyrone, still not taking his eyes off of Warrick. He spoke again, this time to Warrick. "Let's see, we've done sharp and blunt, now we're going to do hot. I haven't really had any screams of agony from you. I'm disappointed. I want to hear you scream." He pulled out a small tape recorder from his pocket. "Oh, don't worry about this. It's just to record those screams." He laughed and hit the record button._

Grissom's eyes widened in fear and he didn't utter a word. The others around the table noted this, and instantly became more on edge.

"Now, as you can see, I'm not threatening. I expect the release of Marty. Tomorrow, I will finalise the release details. Until then sit tight."

The phone beeped as the call ended.

* * *

"What was that about?" Sara asked.

"He knows we traced the call," Grissom said. "He wasn't at the phone box like yesterday. Tomorrow he will finalise the details so we have until to find them. I know none of us have had much sleep. I'm hoping that you'll give me one more night. Go home, change, eat and have a few hours. But I need you all back here as soon as possible. I'll get Brass to send someone to watch the phone box he called from earlier. See if we can get some evidence from that. We need to search those addresses we think he's staying at." Grissom abruptly stood up and left the others in his wake, heading for his office, where he place the call to Brass.

* * *

"Somethings up," Nick said. "He wouldn't have left like that unless something happened. I'm going to - "Catherine cut him off, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"He told us everything he thought we needed to know," she said. "Go home Nicky, clean up."

Nick went to protest, but thought better against it. Instead, he stood up, and walked out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Nick pulled his Tahoe up to his driveway and turned off the engine. He looked towards the door. The police that had been assigned there earlier had obviously left. Leaning over to the passengers side, he picked up his wallet and got out. He locked the Tahoe and made his way to his front door. Opening the door, he walked inside throwing his keys and wallet onto the chair. He made his way to the kitchen where he poured himself an ice cold drink, before heading to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and let it run for a few moments, heading back to the kitchen where he grabbed something from the fridge. Biting into it, he headed back to the bathroom. He put his hand under the water checking the temperature deep in thought. So deep in thought that he didn't hear the soft footsteps behind him. Didn't feel the breeze as arms reached around his neck until the last moment. He struggled, but found his vision getting darker and darker, before finally falling unconsciousness.

* * *

**So there it is – chapter 10 in a nutshell. Stay tuned for the next chapter. And remember, reviews are nice :)**


	11. To Die For Another

**Disclaimer: Same as normal...I do not own CSI or any of the characters you recognise.**

**A/N: So..here it is: I sat down and said to myself-self that until I'd finished this chapter I wasn't allowed to get up from the seat :) And..it worked..sort of. From here, the chapters will be jumping back and forth from the characters, so if a character isn't in this chapter, they'll be in the next :) **

* * *

**Chapter 11: To Die For Another**

The cold of the floor slid through Nick's body as he opened his eyes slowly. Blinking a few times he tried to take in his surroundings, but the darkness of the room fought back. His head swam in the dizziness as he tried to focus, lifting his head a few inches from the floor. The room was silent except for the sound of heavy breathing coming from another corner of the room. Struggling against the bonds that held his hands behind his back, he managed, after several attempts, to sit himself. Leaning his head back against the wall, he let the dots in front of his eyes settle.

_'Where am I?' he thought to himself, struggling against the rope._

A short sharp intake of breath brought him back to reality and away from his thoughts. Turning to where the sound came from, he could just make out the silhouette of another person.

"Hello?" he croaked through a dry throat.

"Nicky?" a soft, almost inaudible voice replied.

_'Hey, I recognise that voice,' he thought to himself, the adrenaline now rushing through his body._

"Warrick? Is that you?" he asked, struggling to his feet. His legs shook as they held the weight of his body.

"Yeah. The one and only." The hint of sarcasm touched his voice.

Nick had managed to make himself stable, and made his way over to Warrick, making sure to tread carefully.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he got closer. He stopped in his tracks as he saw Warrick, now in a heap on the floor. His hands were bound in front of him, allowing him to cradle his broken arm. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The Warrick Brown he knew was strong, bold and sometimes outspoken. The one in front of him however was bloodied, withdrawn.

He knelt down.

"What happened?" he asked. He noticed the dried blood stains littering his friends body, the burns. The stale stench of flesh still filled the air.

"You want the whole story?" Warrick asked between breaths.

Nick thought about this for a moment.

"Well, I know some of it," Nick replied. "Well, from what Grissom and the others have worked out."

Warrick nodded his head slightly, wincing as he did.

"Well er, I left you. Got a cab," he closed his eyes as he tried to recall what happened. "I was searching for my keys, but I heard a noise. That's the last thing I remember before I woke up. The rest is sort of... fuzzy." He coughed, sending a fresh wave of pain through his body.

Nick slid his body down the wall so he sat next to Warrick. He didn't say anything for a few minutes, everything Warrick had told him, coupled with everything he knew from the lab running through his head.

"You know we'll get out of here," he said, optimism in his voice. Warrick didn't say anything in reply but Nick kept talking, trying to reassure his friend; and himself.

"Yeah. Grissom and the others are working on it. They found a fingerprint and got a name from AFIS."

Warrick made to shake his head, but stopped.

"We're not getting out of here until Marty Silver is released," he said sadly. "He's already moved once to here, he may move again. Besides, time's almost up. After that," he trailed off.

This time it was Nick who shook his head vigorously.

"Don't talk like that 'Rick," he said. "They'll find us. And..and they'll get this bastard," his voice wavered. "And don't forget that you've still got to beat me at one on one in basketball. Best out of five."

The sound of the footsteps alerted both Warrick and Nick to their visitor. The door opened, allowing some light to flood in the opening of the door. The man closed the door behind him, then flicked the switch on a torch and pointed it at Warrick and Nick. Nick squinted, his eyes adjusting to the light, and it was now that the light was shining on them both that he saw the extent of Darrick's injuries.

"Hello Mr Stokes. It's nice of you to join our little party."

Nick wasn't sure who this man was, but, if Grissom and Catherine were right this was either Tyrone or Jason.

"Tyrone," he said, taking a while guess, and saying it more to clarify it was him as opposed to making a greeting.

Tyrone sniggered. "Well, I guess you've worked out who I am. Nevermind. It doesn't matter. Even if they do find you, I'll be long gone from here. My brother free." He paced up and down. "Not looking too well is he?" he said as he motioned towards Warrick. "Shame really, we were getting on so well."

Nick suppressed the urge to laugh.

"See, that's where you come in. Two CSI's for one prisoner is a much better bargain then one. Hopefully it will hurry it along a little."

"You know, even if they do release him, you won't get far. Police will catch up with you eventually." Nick said.

Anger flashed in Tyrone's face as he moved forward, backhanding Nick across the face. Nick wasn't quite able to keep his balance, the force sending him sprawling.

"Those bitches deserved everything they go. They wound him up. Teased him. Well I'm not going to let him die for another worthless bitch. Marty protected me. He helped me. Now I'm going to help him. I'd die for him if I had too. But that's not really an option. Tell me Mr Stokes. Would you die for another?" he asked. "Would you die for your friend here if it guaranteed his release? "

Nick picked himself off the floor, and stared at Tyrone.

_'He's crazy.' Nick thought to himself._

"I asked you a question," he snarled. This time he grabbed Warrick round the top of his shirt and dragged him along the floor. Warrick groaned as the rough floor aggrivated his injuries. He doubted he could stand, let alone stand up to the guy.

Nick, who up until now hadn't said much stood up, his anger causing the blood to pump around his body. He ran, forcing his body weight into Tyrone. Even though he was taller then Nick, he was till propelled across the room. Nick managed to keep his balance, but despite his size, Tyrone moved quickly. He pounced on Nick, throwing him across the room, followed by a swift kick to the abdomen.

"I wouldn't do that again if I were you," Tyrone snarled, bringing himself up close to Nick, who now had blood trickling down his head. "See, that's what partly got Warrick where he is. Playing the brave fool." He lowered his voice, the threat however still there.

"Now tell me Nick, would you die for you friend?"

Nick looked Warrick in the eyes, and nodded silently.

"Good," hissed Tyrone as he picked up the torch and exited the room, leaving Warrick and Nick alone again in the darkness and to contemplate their fate.

* * *

**To be continued..**


	12. The Evidence Never Lies

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of the recognisable characters**

**A/N: Brief spoilers from past episodes. Also, I began writing this before Grave Danger aired in the UK, hence why I have not mentioned anything to do with that episode. Also, thank-you for the reviews. And a big welcome to all new readers :) Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 12: The Evidence Never Lies**

Less than three hours later, Catherine and Sara had met back at the lab and were hovering in Grissom's office, waiting for him to arrive. Despite having had a few hours to clean up and refresh themselves, they both looked the worse for wear. Moments later, Grissom entered his office, flicking through the case file. He looked up, acknowledging Sara and Catherine.

"No Nick?" he simply asked, taking a seat behind his desk.

Catherine shook her head, pacing the width of the small room.

"No, I haven't seen him since we left a few hours ago," Sara said.

Grissom nodded, figuring that perhaps Nick was still trying to sort his own emotions out. He had after all been no stranger to his own problems, having been held at gunpoint twice. Grissom knew that Nick and Warrick were close friends, and that this, coupled with his own experiences was playing heavily on his mind.

_'Especially as he was the last person to see him,' Grissom thought to himself sadly._

"So what's our plan?" Catherine said, almost business like, and now taking the chair next to Sara.

"I need Sara to head over to this car rental place," he said, handing Sara a slip of paper with the address on. Sara looked down at it and read it over. "O' Riley will meet you there. The owner rang up. Someone returned a van, with what looks like blood in it."

"Know who borrowed it?" Sara asked, handing the slip of paper over to Catherine for her to read.

Grissom nodded. "Jason Green."

"What?" Catherine asked, lifting her head quickly from the paper. "You mean he took out a rental? Can we get an address from the information?"

Grissom shook his head.

"Unfortunately no. The address is the same as the one where we were at earlier." Silence filled the room, as the memories of processing the scene went through their minds.

"Search it thoroughly," he said to Sara. Even though he knew she would, he didn't want anything to be overlooked.

"Right on it," Sara said as she left Grissom's office.

"You think we can get something from the van?" Catherine asked.

"I don't know," Grissom said. "Hopefully we can find something that can give us an idea where they've taken Warrick. I didn't find anything at the phone box. Just lots of prints. None of them belonging to Jason or Tyrone. So far all we've got is several locations around that area that Brass pulled from Jason's prison record. Tyrone on the other hand has no previous address in Vegas."

"Wait. You went and processed the phone box already? I thought we were doing that later," Catherine asked.

Grissom shrugged. "Needed to process it before any potential evidence vanished. Except there wasn't any." Frustration etched Grissom's face.

"I don't know Cath," he began. "This guy is playing us against our own game. He leaves very little evidence, and the evidence he does leave us gives us a dead end. And before long, we're going to get another call with the arrangements of our so called release." Grissom sighed. "Maybe it's time we started playing him at his own game."

"How'd you mean?" Catherine asked.

"To have any chance of getting Warrick back we have to either release Marty or find that piece of evidence that'll lead us to where they're staying. Perhaps we should release him," Grissom said, eyes glazed.

"No, no, no," Catherine said eyes widening. "You can't be serious? Didn't you hear the Sheriff? And you know we don't make deal with terrorists. And -" She was cut off as Grissom held up his hand.

"We give the illusion of releasing him. We go to make the drop." Catherine opened her mouth, making no sound, now understanding where Grissom was coming from.

"And Brass knows about this?" she asked.

"Yes. It was his idea."

Catherine nodded, impressed.

"And the Sheriff?" she asked.

"Doesn't know yet."

"So er, when are you planning on telling him?" she asked him.

"When the time is right," Grissom said, the small end of a smile on his face.

"So what are we going to do for the moment?" Catherine asked Grissom.

"I'm going to try and get in contact with Nicky. I want you to see if Greg's busy. Pull out the case file for Marty Silver. See if there is anything in that that'll help us in this case. Then, go over what we've got so far."

Standing up, Catherine pulled down the jacket she was wearing, exiting Grissom's office. Grissom picked up the phone, dialling Nick's number. The phone began to ring...

* * *

Sara jumped out of her Tahoe, recovering her kit from the back. O' Riley was waiting for her.

"Hi Sara," he greeted.

Sara smiled. "O' Riley," she said, nodding her head in acknowledgement of the greeting. "So where's the vehicle?" she asked.

"Over there," O' Riley said, pointing over to his right. "The guy left before taking his deposit back. Wasn't until the worker checked inside that he realised why. Manager got in touch straight away. Wasn't too pleased."

"Well, would you be?" Sara said, walking over to the manager who was still in conversation with one of his workers. They approached the manager.

"Sara Sidle," O' Riley said, introducing her to the manager. "She's with the crime lab."

The manager extended his hand in a form of greeting.

"Steven Gibbs," he said. "I'm the manager. Just tell me you can get the guy that done this to the van."

Sara didn't say anything.

"Mr Gibbs. Have either you or any of your workers been inside the van since it's been returned?" she asked, now using her flashlight to peer in the back.

He shook his head. "No. Tim here opened her up and saw the state she was in. Came and got my straight away."

Sara pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and took a swab from her back. Using it, she took a sample from the back of the van.

"What are you doing?" asked Steven.

"Testing," Sara replied.

"For what?" he asked.

"Blood," she said, as the swab in front of her showed a positive ID for blood. She took some photos. In the back was some rope covered in blood. She took another sample of blood to take to Greg once she got back to the lab. As she pulled her torchlight back towards her, she noticed a piece of blue material caught on the edge. She took a photograph before grabbing her tweezers, she picked it up. It had blood on it. She bagged it.

"Who was this van rented out to?" Sara asked. Although Grissom told her it was Jason Green, she needed to clarify the information.

"Er," the manager scratched his head. "Jason Green. Came in a few weeks back. Said he had some things to move."

O' Riley spoke.

"How did he seem? This Green guy?"

"I don't know," the manager replied. "He seemed normal I guess. Although you'd need to speak to Susie. She dealt with him."

O' Riley and Sara moved aside, now in conversation. O' Riley nodded as Sara spoke.

"Okay Mr Gibbs," Sara said. "I'm going to need prints from everyone that works here, to rule out your employee's prints. And I'm going to need to tow the van back to the lab to gather evidence."

Steven Gibbs stood there, astounded.

"You can either give Miss Sidle here what she needs now," O' Riley said, pulling his phone from his pocket for effect, "Or I can get a warrant. Either way, we'll need the van and the prints."

Steven Gibbs waved his hand.

"No, take it. Everyone that works here is in at the moment. We had a big meeting early this morning. This way," he said, signalling for O' Riley and Sara to follow him.

It didn't take long for Sara to gather everything she needed, and before long, she was heading back to the lab.

* * *

Grissom tried calling Nick again, and once more had reached his voice mail. Hanging up, Grissom went in search of Catherine. He found her in the evidence room pouring over documents.

"Anything?" he asked, walking up behind her.

"Nothing on the surface. The guy raped and killed women. Left no evidence until he slipped up. Could be why our guy knows a lot about forensics. Knows where Marty messed up so know to be careful," Catherine said.

"Where's Greg?" Grissom asked. "I thought he was helping you?"

"He was. But Sara got back to the lab. Had some blood evidence for him to run."

"Where's Sara now then?" he asked.

"O, she's waiting for the van to be brought in so she can examine it closely." Catherine looked Grissom up and down. "What's wrong Gil?" she asked, now standing up from the chair.

"I don't know," he replied. "It's getting to me now. And I can't get hold of Nick either."

"Well, you know this case has been tough on him. It has on us all. But Nick," she let her words trail off. "I'll ring Brass, get him to check on him. I'll meet you in the garage." She left the room to place the call. Grissom followed her but made his way to the garage where he gathered Sara would be waiting.

* * *

"Brass, it's Catherine," she said into the phone. "You doing anything at the moment? Good. Grissom's trying to get hold of Nick but he's not answering his phone. Don't suppose you'd head over there and check on him. Yeah, thanks Brass." she hung up the phone, heading to the garage.

* * *

"Well, there's a lot more blood in there then I first thought," Sara said to Grissom as the inside of the van glowed showing where there was blood.. "The stuff the manager found was superficial. Looks like somebody didn't clean it too well," she said.

Catherine entered the room, and placed her hands on her hips.

"You find anything Sara?" she asked.

"Yeah. Blood. Some hairs from the front seats. Got a couple with the tags still attached. I also found a small sample of material with blood on it and some rope. That's with Greg. What do you reckon?" she asked. "They've changed vehicles?"

"Possibly," Grissom said. "But we can't know for sure. If they're holed up somewhere where they think no-one will find them then they may not need another one. Did you ring Brass Cath?"

"Yeah," she said. "He's on his way. He'll call when he gets there."

* * *

Brass parked his car outside Nick's house. Looking up he noticed no movement coming from the house.

_'Huh. Must be asleep,' he thought to himself. 'Something we could all do with.'_

Nevertheless, he got out of his car. The two policemen that had been stationed outside his house were there.

"Hello Detective," the dark haired one greeted.

Brass nodded. "Have you seen Stokes recently?"

"No sir. Haven't seen anything for a few hours. Figured he must be asleep."

Brass nodded and knocked on the door. There was no reply. He knocked again but still nothing. Moving to the side, he looked through the window. He noticed his keys, phone and wallet sitting on the chair.

_'Must be in,' he thought to himself. 'Better just see for sure though.'_

He knocked again but still got no answer. He pushed on the door. It opened silently. Instinct took over. It wasn't like Nick to leave the door unlocked like this. Not after Nigel Crane.

"Sir?" the dark haired officer asked. Brass motioned for him to be quiet. He reached down for his gun. He pushed open the door further, now taking a step inside. Living room. Clear. Kitchen. Clear. He made his way down the hall. Bedroom. Clear. He approached the final door. The bathroom. He could hear water running. He knocked on the door.

"Nick?" he called out. "Nick is that you?" He was met with no reply. "Well, I'm coming in." He pushed open the door. Gun in hand. Empty.

"Shit," he muttered to himself. Nick's personal effects were scattered on the floor, from the result of the struggle. Broken shards from a mirror were on the floor, the smallest of blood smears across the wall. He pulled out his phone. First he needed to call Catherine. Then he needed to give the officers out front a piece of his mind.

* * *

The shrill ring of Catherine's phone broke the conversation. She moved away from Grissom and Sara to take the call.

"Willows," she said into the phone. She nodded as she listened. All of a sudden though, she shouted into the phone, startling Sara.

"What? But Brass I thought - " she stopped mid sentence, cut off by Brass on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, I'll tell Grissom. Get him over there straight away." She hung up the phone. She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts before addressing Sara and Grissom.

"That was Brass," she said, clutching her phone in her hand tightly. She chose her next words carefully. "Seems like the reason you couldn't get hold of Nick earlier was because he's not there."

"Well where is he?" Grissom asked, urgency showing in his eyes, although his voice remained calm and composed.

"Brass doesn't know. Looks like there was a struggle in his bathroom. He found a blood smear along the wall."

"That makes sense," came a voice from behind them. None of them had noticed Greg enter the room. He was clutching several pieces of paper. "I er, I finished processing everything Sara gave me from the van. Most of the blood was Warrick's. I managed to get some DNA off of the rope too. That also belong to Warrick. The hair belongs to Jason Green."

Grissom just nodded. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Er yeah." Greg replied. "I thought you'd want to know this straight away. The material Sara found that had blood on it? Well -"

"It was Nick's," Sara said, more for clarification then an actual question. Greg nodded. She threw her hands up in the hair.

"Great. This just gets better and better," she said through her teeth. She threw off her latex gloves, barged past Greg and exited the garage.

Catherine made to go after her but was interrupted by Grissom.

"I'll go," he said, now hurrying after Sara. Greg and Catherine watched him go.

"First Warrick and now Nick," Greg said, fidgeting with the paper in hand. "What now?"

"I don't know Greg," Catherine said. "I don't know."

* * *

"Did you do it?" Tyrone asked.

"Yeah. Just what you said. Took the van back to the rental place. Left some blood and evidence for them to find."

"Good, good. They should have found it by now. Know that we've got their other CSI. Now they know we mean business." Tyrone stood, and looked at the photo of his brother on the mantel piece. Knife in one hand, a skinned animal in the other. "Soon brother. Soon we'll have our revenge and you will be free."

* * *

**Woo. Long chapter. Hope you enjoyed. Next chapter coming soon :) Feel free to leave any ideas or questions **


	13. Going For A Ride

**Disclaimer: Same as, but, I unfortunately, I don't own CSI or any of our fave characters. I'm just borrowing them for the duration of this fic**

**A/N: Thank-you to everyone that's read and reviewed. It's nice to know that there are readers who enjoy this fic.**

* * *

**Chapter 13: Going For A Ride**

"Yo 'Rick. You alright there?" Nick asked, gasping for air. The kick he took to the abdomen had winded him rather badly.

A few groans escaped Warrick's lips. "You know, I don't feel so good." He tried to sit up, but the dizziness took over. "I think I might just -" he began, setting down his head. The blackness swarming inside his head finally beating the will of his conciousness.

"'Rick?" Nick asked. Silence filled the air. "'Rick?" he asked again, this time panic tinging the edge of his voice. He stood, losing his balance slightly, the pain in his abdomen forgotten for the moment. Hurrying over, he lent over Warrick, turning his head so his ear was hovering over his mouth. The cool rush of air wisped past it, indicating that he was still alive. His breathing though was now even more laboured then it had been previously.

"Still alive," he whispered silently into the darkness. The walls seem to mock him as it echoed slightly in the room.

* * *

Upstairs, hidden from view from the curtains, Tyrone and Jason were conversing across the table.

"It's time to put the next stage of the plan into action," Tyrone said to Jason. "We need another vehicle. You'll need to rent us another van."

Jason nodded, although doubt crossed his face.

"Won't they be looking for me?" he asked.

Tyrone smirked. "No, you'll be fine. Go to another rental place. They won't know who you are. Besides, remember the fake ID. No problem." Tyrone's words sunk into Jason slowly.

"Anything in particular?" Jason asked. "Need anything else while I'm gone?"

Tyrone shook his head.

"Anything big enough for those two will do," he said, referring to Nick and Warrick. "Now, get going."

Jason stood, up, exiting the house through the back door. Tyrone watched, a smirk on his face, shaking his head.

* * *

Nick sat crossed legged beside Warrick, deep in thought, his breathing the only sound in the room.

_'How did things come to be like this," he thought to himself sadly. 'If only I'd listened to Grissom then maybe I could be helping them find this bastard. I found him alright. Just not the way it should have been.' He let out a soft sigh. 'It's not about the ifs now. It's about getting us out of here. Alive._

Closing his eyes, he tried to formulate a plan, any sort of plan, that could get them out of this predicament. Nothing however came to mind. There was no way out from the basement, and they had no-way to escape while Tyrone and his cronie were seated upstairs.

_'And even if they do leave I've still got to get Warrick out as well. We're here together, and we'll get out of this together. We've got each others backs.'_

The sound of footsteps and the door opening brought him out from his thoughts.

"Get up," Tyrone hissed. "We're going for a little ride."

"What?" Nick asked.

"You heard me, get up." He grabbed Nick by the collar of his shirt.

"Well, what about Warrick?" he asked, thinking he was stating the obvious.

"He's staying here."

"Wait, you can't leave him here. I mean - " Tyrone cut him off.

"He's staying here. Besides, he'll be dead soon and hauling a dead body around is too much hassle." He nudged the unconscious Warrick with his foot.

Nick shook his head violently.

"If he's staying here, I'm staying here," Nick said firmly.

Rage contorted Tyrone's face. He reached for the waistband of his trousers, pulling out a gun, pointing in Nick's face.

"Listen. Me and you are leaving this place. He's staying here, understand?"

Nick looked down the barrel of the gun. He was no stranger to this situation having been in it twice before. He remained calm, his face set in a dead stare. His insides on the other hand were raging. His heart was beating twice as fast as the adrenaline pumped around his body. The fight or flight response.

_'Do I stand here and fight?' he thought to himself, "Getting myself killed but staying here with 'Rick, or do I stand down and go with this maniac?' _

He didn't see in the darkness Tyrone lower the gun, pulling the trigger.

* * *

Jason Green walked the remainder of the way to the rental place, making sure to act calm, keeping his face covered. He opened the glass doors, and was approached by a young brunette.

"Hello sir, may I help you?" she asked politely, flashing him a smile.

"Er, yes, you can," he looked down at the name tag. '_Lillian Howard,' he read. "_Lillian," he said, smiling back at her. "I need to rent a van."

She nodded at him.

"Come this way and I can sort that out for you," she said. She took a seat opposite the computer. "Okay," she said. "I need to see your driver's licence and some other form of ID," she said. He handed both over to her. She looked over it carefully. Something on the licence glared out at her as not being normal. She smiled back at him again.

"Okay Mr Burrell, that's fine" she said. "I just need to speak with my manager so he can sort you out." She stood up, taking the ID and licence with her, and headed for the manager's office.

* * *

Nick screamed out in pain as the bullet flew past his leg. Although it hadn't penetrated deeply or lodged in the leg, it nicked the edge of his thigh, tearing the denim material as it went. Fresh blood trickled down his leg. His hands were bound behind his back so he wasn't able to apply any pressure. He hissed through his teeth.

"Next time," Tyrone said, "I won't miss, and the bullet," he put his finger and thumb on his left hand together in a mocking gun pose, "Will be in your head. Bang," he said, pretending to shoot Nick in the head.

Nick didn't say anything, the pain still fresh.

"Now, move," Tyrone said, gun in hand. He pushed Nick forward to the doorframe. He winced as he put pressure on his wounded leg. Standing in the doorway, the small amount of light filtering from downstairs, he took one final look at Warrick on the floor, as the cold metal of the gun pushed deeper into his lumbar spine.

* * *

**Okay, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Should have the next one up in the next few days :)**


	14. The Missing Link

**Disclaimer: As always, I do not own CSI or any of the characters **

**A/N – I hoped to have this up sooner but net issues have put it on hold. But it's finally here. So enjoy :)**

* * *

**Chapter 14: The Missing Link**

Grissom sat in his office, hunched over his desk, case notes in hand. None of the evidence they'd collected had led them anywhere nearer to finding Warrick or Nick. Tests on the van had shown the last journey at an absurd mileage which would take them out of Las Vegas, giving them nothing to link to a possible location. A knock on his door disturbed his thoughts.

"Hi Brass," Grissom greeted, now setting the file down on the desk. "What's up?" he asked.

"Thought you'd like to know. PD just got a call from a rental place. Possible fake ID. Wouldn't normally alert us like this, but with the flag out on Jason Green and anything suspicious, the manager thought it best to call us in."

"You're going out there now?" Grissom asked. Brass nodded. "I'll come with you." He grabbed his vest, and joining Brass, they made their way outside. They ran into Sara on the way.

"What's up Gris?" Sara asked, falling into stride with them. "Got something?"

"Maybe," he said, not stopping.

"Need me to come along?" she asked. Grissom shook his head.

"Stay here. Work the evidence with Cath. Times ticking." Grissom and Brassed exited the lab, leaving Sara watch them go. She headed back into the lab in search of Catherine.

* * *

Jason looked at the clock on the wall as the seconds ticked by. He wasn't sure what was keeping the young girl that had served him, but she'd gone to the manager.

_'Maybe I'll be having a word with the manager about her service,' he thought to himself._

A few more minutes ticked by. He started to fidget with his fingers. He was getting nervous. It shouldn't have taken this long. He sat at the desk, looking at the clock, as though willing Lillian to come back. After a few moments longer, he heard the click of her heels approaching from behind.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," she said, as she flashed him a big smile. "We have a van for you. All I need now is your method of payment."

"Of course," Jason said, smiling back at Lillian. "Where do I sign?"

* * *

Brass pulled his car up to the rental place, making sure to park it far enough back so he didn't give away the element of surprise. The police car pulled up behind him. Brass got out of his Taurus, as did Grissom, while the police officers got out of their car, making their way over to Brass. Grissom studied the rental place while Brass instructed the police officers. Brass made his way to stand beside Grissom.

"Beggars belief doesn't it?" Brass said. "The guy works so hard to cover his tracks, but tries to rent another vehicle in broad daylight."

Grissom nodded. "Although we still don't know what part he plays in this."

They made their way towards the entrance, the other officers close behind. As they did, a man in a dark suit exited the building.

"O, thank goodness you're here," he said, breathlessly.

Brass eyed the man up and down, catching a glimpse of the ID badge pinned to his chest.

_'Manager," he thought to himself._

"Where is he?" Brass asked, getting straight to the point.

The manager pointed into the building. "He's in there. With Lillian."

"Thank-you," Brass said, politely. "Officer James, come with me." He entered the building, drawing his gun as he went, followed closely by Officer James. Silently, he approached th desk, keeping his gun to the back of Jason's head, as did the other officer.

"Jason Green," Brass said, keeping his voice level.

Jason was caught off guard. He turned around at the mention of his name, and saw the two guns pointed at his head. He went to rise.

"Don't move," warned Brass. "If not, I'll shoot." He motioned to Officer James. "Cuff him." Brass kept the gun trained on Jason, while Officer James cuffed him. He didn't put up a fight. Didn't even move while he was being checked for weapons.

_'Cornered, like a rat in a trap," He thought to himself. 'Careless. Tyrone is gonna be angry.'_

Brass now took notice of the young lady behind the desk.

"Lillian right?" he asked. She nodded. "You ok?" She nodded again, before making her way towards the office.

Holstering his gun, he grabbed Jason by the arm, almost pulling him as he walked back outside the building to where Grissom was waiting with Officer Tyler. As Jason was pulled out of the building, he made yet contact with Grissom. He sneered.

"None of this will matter you know," he grinned slyly.

Grissom said nothing, but watched as Jason was lead the the car.

"Save it," Brass said after Jason, as Officer James escorted him to the police car.

He made is way back to where Grissom was standing.

"How long do you think it will take him to crack?"

"Depends," Grissom said. "From the sound of it, he won't give us what we want."

Brass shrugged. "We'll see. I need to speak with Lillian and the manager. Shouldn't take long." Grissom nodded as he watched the police car drive away.

* * *

Sara stood in the observation room, hidden by the one way glass, watching Jason Green. He was now dressed in an orange jumpsuit, his clothes having been removed and currently processed for evidence. Handcuffs held his arms behind his back, making it difficult for him to make himself comfortable on the chair. He'd asked for a lawyer who hadn't arrived yet, delaying the interview further.

_'If it isn't murder yet, and his lawyer doesn't turn up, it may soon be," she thought to herself. She scolded herself for thinking these thoughts._

The silence was broken by the door clicking open.

"Hey Sara," Greg greeted. "Thought you'd like to know that there was blood on his clothes. It belonged to Nick." Sara didn't say anything, and Greg brought his attention to Jason sitting at the table.

"Doesn't look too smart does he?" Greg said.

"Well, looks can be deceiving," she replied.

* * *

"His lawyer is here," Brass said to Grissom. "They're having some time now. We'll start the interview soon."

"Good. We know he's involved. We found some of Nick's blood on his clothes and the fibres match those we recovered at Nick's house."

"Bastard can't deny he isn't involved."

* * *

Grissom and Brass at opposite Jason Green and his lawyer, Chantelle Williams, in the interview room. Catherine, Sara and Greg were behind the one way window, watching the interview.

"We know that you're involved. The evidence says so," Brass said to him.

Jason clicked his tongue inside his mouth. It was Chantelle Williams that spoke.

"I've looked at the evidence and spoken with my client. He says that he was threatened with his life if he didn't do as he was instructed."

"Oh, come on. Threatened?" Brass had to smile. "You've got to be kidding me. We know that whoever it is wants Marty Silver free, and that, coincidently, you were in prison with his brother Tyrone Bale." His tone got harsh. "So you're telling me Tyrone is threatening you?"

Jason nodded.

"Well why didn't you contact the police."

Jason shrugged. "He'd have killed me." He hid a smirk.

Brass rolled his eyes. "Either way you're involved and you're going to be inside a lot longer. And maybe Tyrone will be in there with you. We've got evidence of you being involved in this from the beginning. We've got your fingerprints on an envelope that you hand delivered to the station. You rented a van which you returned with blood evidence in."

"You know what this is?" Grissom asked, interrupting Brass and placing a photograph in front of Jason. He looked at it. "It's a blood drop. On the clothes we removed from you when we brought you in."

"Must have cut myself."

"Well, it's not your blood. It belongs to one of our missing CSI's, Nicholas Stokes. We also matched some fibres we found at the scene to those from your shirt." Jason remained silent, so Grissom continued. "The samples we took from the van you returned had blood samples from both Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown, both of whom are still missing."

"You can't tie the van to my client."

"Yes we can. It was rented out in his name. He also got sloppy. Left prints on the underside of the handle."

Chantelle looked at Jason, who merely shrugged.

Brass stood up and began pacing round the room.

"So, you want to tell us where they are?"

"Nope," Jason replied. "You're the one with all this 'evidence', you find them."

"I need a few moments with my client," Chantelle uninterrupted.

Brass however chose to ignore this request.

"You know, you're being set-up, and your too stupid to notice. You think it was coincidence that Tyrone got you to do all his work? Got you to rent another van?" Jason was getting angry, the vein in the side of his head bulging. But Brass continued to push. "You know what," he knelt with his palms on the table, "I bet he's sitting there taking the piss out of you as we speak. Laughing at you for believing him. You're his lap dog."

Jason jumped up, now aggravated, however his restraints prevented him from lashing out.

"Captain Brass, this is not on," shouted Chantelle. "This is harassment."

"I'm just telling Mr Green here the truth," Brass said a smirk on his face. "Now, sit back down."

He let the atmosphere settle again.

"So, are you going to tell me what I need to know?"

* * *

"Well that was useless," Sara said to Catherine and Greg as Brass and Grissom left the interview. "He didn't give us a thing."

"I don't know," Catherine replied. "He admitted to being involved with Tyrone Bale, so at least now we know he's involved."

"What if," Sara began, "We've been going about this the wrong way. We've put all of our efforts into finding Warrick and Nick through the evidence Jason's left behind. Perhaps we've missed a link between Marty's case and this one." She left the room, thoughts whirring through her brain. Grissom and Brass entered just as Sara left.

"Where's she off too?" Grissom asked.

"She's gone to cross reference Marty's case with this one. Thinks we may have missed something." Catherine replied.

Grissom nodded.

"I er, better get back to the lab," Greg said. "Things to run." Grissom looked at Greg leave before continuing.

"Somethings going on. So far we've got one guy in custody who we believe to have been set up, and we haven't received that phone call from Tyrone. It's as if he's waiting for something.

Sara burst into the room, folders clutched in her hands.

"You guys, I think I might have found something," she said, opening the folders to the appropriate pages. "It didn't register before, but, look at this." She pointed to the paper.

"The addresses," Grissom began.

"Match," finished Catherine. "How did we miss this?"

"Tired eyes," Grissom replied. "Didn't pick it up."

"So the first address we responded to matches the address of Marty's first rape."

"Looks like," Sara said. "So maybe we need to look at the others. We know the area that last call was placed right?"

"Yeah. We need a map," Catherine said. They moved to the evidence room, where they set up a large map on the table.

"We know that the call was placed in this area," Grissom said, circling an area on the map.

"Well, according to these addresses, only one matches," Sara said, "And that's right here," she said, marking it with the pen.

"The home of his last rape victim," Catherine said.

"It's a long shot," Brass said, "But it's something. I'll go secure a warrant."

* * *

Police cars and Tahoe's sped through the roads, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Cars moved out of the way to let them through. As they pulled up to the estate, they cut the lights and the sirens.

_'No point announcing our arrival just yet,' Brass thought to himself, as he wrestled with the steering wheel._

He pulled the car up, screeching to a stop. The other vehicles followed suit. Brass indicated for two police officers to take the back entrance, while the other two were going in with him. A fifth officer had a ram in his hand, ready to open up the door. Brass pulled his gun, as did the other officers.

"I don't want you guys in there until I said so," Grissom said to Catherine and Sara who were waiting anxiously on the pavement. They nodded. He made his way up to the house where Brass was getting ready to move in.

"Draw your weapon Gil," Brass said in a friendly manner. He knew that Grissom didn't like to use his gun, but he'd insisted on coming in with them at the rear. That meant he'd have to have his weapon drawn. Grissom un holstered it and nodded. Brass rapped on the door.

"Police. Open up." No-one answered, so, Brass indicated the officer to barge down the door. They entered the dingy doorway. The inside was dark and dusty.

"Check upstairs," Brass said to two of the officers. The third officer and Grissom remained with Brass as they checked the ground floor. They cleared each room and entered the kitchen.

"Guess the only way is down," Brass said as he approached a door in the corner leading to the basement. He cautiously approached the door, opening it. The stench hit him as soon as he did. Burnt flesh. Stale blood. He put his arm across his mouth trying to stem the gag reflex. Quickening his pace, he shone his torch down the stairs, checking for any assailents, or broken stairs. Finding none, he made his way to the very bottom. He checked again. Grissom reached the bottom, shining his torch into the room, and along with Brass', it lit up the very dark room.

Pools of blood littered the floor and the walls. And there, almost in the centre of the room was a body. A very still, lifeless body.

"Is that - " began Brass, but was interrupted by Grissom, eyes wide, now heading forward, shining his torch in a bid to preserve the crime scence.

"Warrick? Warrick?" he called, moving closer. There was no response. He checked the area for any dangers and found a clear path. Getting closer he saw the full extent. Warrick was sprawled on his back, his hands bound in front of him. The broken arm stuck out at a precarious angle. Grissom knelt down, fiddling with Warrick's wrist in an attempt to find a pulse. He couldn't find one.

"Come on," he cried in frustration.

He searched some more.

_'Found it,' he said to himself._

"Brass, I need a medic now. I've got a pulse, but it's very weak," he cried out, as it echoed round the room.

* * *

**Next chapter coming soon..**


	15. Past, Present and Future

**Disclaimer: Ok. Despite the fact this has been in the last fourteen chapters and will be in everyone of the future, I don't own CSI, I'm just borrowing the characters for a little while. **

**A/N: Thank-you all for the positive reviews. So, especially for you, a Nick-tastic filled chapter. Enjoy. Just, don't throw anything at me if you don't like it :)**

**Also, some spoilers from Season 1, Episode 6, Who Are You? And Season 2, Episode 19, Stalker. Again, just for new readers, I started this before a large amount of Season 5 had aired in the UK, so no mention of Grave Danger.**

* * *

**Chapter 15: Past, Present and Future**

Nick had been forced into the back of the van and was now seated against one of the sides. The blood from his leg injury was still tacky. Because his hands were bound behind his back, he was unable to apply pressure to the wound to lessen the blood flow. His wounded leg however was the last thing on his mind. His eyes were closed and his breathing rapid, images flashing through his mind.

_Flashback:_

_Nick pulled his Tahoe up to his driveway and turned off the engine. He looked towards the door. The police that had been assigned there earlier had obviously left. Leaning over to the passengers side, he picked up his wallet and got out. He locked the Tahoe and made his way to his front door. Opening the door, he walked inside throwing his keys and wallet onto the chair. _

_End Flashback._

Mentally, he was kicking himself.

_'If only I'd have listened to Grissom instead of being so headstrong. Now he's got two missing CSI's to worry about.'_

Two. Two missing CSI's. The phrase kept repeating itself around his head.

_'Missing. Still alive. He's not dead. He can't be dead. They'll find Rick. And they'll find me. And things will be like normal again. Beers on our night off. Breakfast with the rest of the team after a lousy night.' _

He almost chuckled to himself at that thought. Memories of one particular time when Brass had joined the CSI's on a meal. Thought he could get away by not paying the right amount.

_'You CSI's notice everything.'_

This thought however was pushed to the back part of his mind, various memories of the last few hours shifting closer to the surface.

_Flashback:_

_He stopped in his tracks as he saw Warrick, now in a heap on the floor. His hands were bound in front of him, allowing him to cradle his broken arm. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The Warrick Brown he knew was strong, bold and sometimes outspoken. The one in front of him however was bloodied, withdrawn._

_End Flashback._

He closed his eyes tighter, trying to fight the images.

_Flashback:_

_Tell me Mr Stokes. Would you die for another?" he asked. "Would you die for your friend here if it guaranteed his release? "_

_Nick picked himself off the floor, and stared at Tyrone._

_'He's crazy.' Nick thought to himself. _

"_I asked you a question," he snarled. This time he grabbed Warrick round the top of his shirt and dragged him along the floor. Warrick groaned as the rough floor aggravated his injuries._

_End Flashback. _

He shuddered, shaking his head. The memory gave way to the last one he had of the house.

_Flashback:_

"_Now, move," Tyrone said, gun in hand. He pushed Nick forward to the door frame. He winced as he put pressure on his wounded leg. Standing in the doorway, the small amount of light filtering from downstairs, he took one final look at Warrick on the floor, as the cold metal of the gun pushed deeper into his lumbar spine._

_End Flashback._

That last image was almost burnt into his mind. He'd left his friend there. What was perhaps the last moments as the life in him dimmed.

_'It's not my fault,' Nick kept saying to himself. 'I had no choice.' _

He let out a cry of frustration, leaning his head back onto the side of the van, the cold metal boring into his skull. The van hit some uneven ground, causing his head to hit the van with some force. He cursed mentally to himselfHe tried to manoeuvre his body so it wasn't so close, but he wasn't being too successful. Each bump was making it more difficult for him to do so, resulting in him banging his head a few more times. The speeding van however came to an abrupt stop, sending his body sideways into the back of the front seats. A few moans escaped his lips. His head hurt and his muscles ached.

The engine cut out. Nick heard the door opening and footsteps heading towards the back of the van. The rear door opening, let daylight into the van. He squinted as it hit his face.

_'Seems like ages since I've seen daylight,' he thought to himself. _

He was relieved. The thought of sunlight seemed to give him fresh hope of getting out of this situation. Tyrone entered the van, his gun pointing at Nick's face. He grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, pulling and dragging him to the doors of the van. He jumped out, keeping his gun trained on Nick, before pulling him to his feet.

"Don't try anything," growled Tyrone. "If not, I'll shoot you and you'll join your friend sooner then you think."

Nick looked around, taking in the surroundings. Or, lack of them. They were in the middle of nowhere. The only thing in sight was an old abandoned building. The walls were crumbling, pipes leaking.

_'Any plan I could have had for escaping would be hindered anyway,' Nick though to himself. 'Even if I could have run I wouldn't get anywhere.' He looked off to the side, into the distance. 'He'd be on my before I'd got fifty metres.'_

The cold metal of the gun was shoved into his back, forcing him forward.

"Walk," came Tyrone's voice. "Now."

Nick obeyed, although grudgingly. He approached the building. Tyrone, keeping the gun trained on him, opened the door.

"In," he said, pointing the gun at Nick again.

Walking inside, a strong smell hit Nick's nose. It was wet from the leaks in the water pipes, a strong smell of must from the damp furniture. He was led over to a corner where some of the pipes ran down the wall. Tyrone cocked the gun to the floor. Nick didn't need to be told to know what he wanted him to do. He carefully lowered his body to the floor. However, he hit the floor with a thud, his bound hands making it difficult for him to lower his body with ease. Unfortunately, he was now looking down the barrel of a gun. Again.

_'Amy Hendlar. Nigel Crane.' _

The memories of the incidents came to the surface, something that he'd tried to keep to the darkest parts of his mind. His eyes began to sting as the tears welled up in his eyes, the same as before. His body trembled, but he fought the tears. Fought the uncontrollable movements that his muscles were urging him to let loose. His breathing rate increased as the adrenaline rushed around his body. He wasn't going to release his emotions for Tyrone to see. To use against him. He'd already shown his weakness back at the house.

_'The problem is, I care too much for others.'_

He'd shown his weakness by refusing to leave Warrick alone to die. Shown his anger at the way he'd used his friend as a tool to break down his barrier.

_'Would you die for another?'_

Tyrone's words echoed round his head.

_'Was this what he meant by dying for another? Was he supposed to die for Marty Silver? The man who'd raped and murdered innocent women? To die for a man who had ruthlessly murdered, yet shown no mercy? Was that Tyrone's plan all along? The imprisonment, the torture? Duped to trade the life of a prisoner for the lives of two CSI's?' _His mind was full of confusion. So many questions yet no answers.

_'Just speculation,' he told himself in an attempt to calm his nerves._

But he couldn't be too sure. He'd seen first hand over the years the things that people did to each other. Spur of the moment, an act of aggression.

_'I am not going to die in this hellhole,' he told himself firmly in an attempt to pull himself together._

He breathed deeply, eyes closed, trying to calm is nerves, reassuring himself.

_'It's the only thing I can do.'_

That's when he heard it.

_'Click.'_

* * *

**I know I'm mean – I didn't want to end the chapter here, but it seemed, well..too good a cliffhanger to miss out on. Hopefully the next chapter won't take too long to post. I know where I want to take this fic now and have the next few chapters planned out in my head – I just need to write it. :)**


	16. Breathe For Me

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI – I just borrowed the characters to create my own little fanfic.**

**A/N: Ok. So apologies for the last chapter and the cliffhanger. As I said, I didn't want to leave it there, but it just cried out to be left there. Thank-you again for the positive reviews.**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Breathe For Me**

The pulse between Grissom's fingers escaped his grasp. Fumbling, he failed to regain it. He watched as the slow, yet rhythmical breathing lessened, before coming to a complete halt. Panic set in, sending a fresh wave of adrenaline pumping through his body. He shook Warrick's body, shouting out his name, but was met with silence. Quickly pulling on a pair of gloves, he took out some scissors, cutting the bindings that held the dying man's arms.

"Brass," he cried out. "Take this. Tell the medics to hurry up," he yelled, passing the scissors and the rope to Brass. He nodded, rushing back up the stairs.

Grissom didn't even wait for a response from Brass. Taking Warrick's forehead with one and hand, and tucking his other hand under his chin, he tilted his head back. Keeping the position, he pinched Warrick's nose, blowing steadily into Warrick's mouth. The chest rose, and fell again, before standing still. He repeated this again before checking for a pulse. Nothing.

Quickly, he identified the correct hand position on Warrick's sternum and began chest compressions.

'_One and two and three,' Grissom counted to himself each time compressing Warrick's chest._ '_Fifteen.' _

Again, he gave two breaths, before starting the compressions again.

"Come on, breathe," he urged.

Footsteps could be heard hurrying down the stairs.

"Excuse me sir," one of the medics said, politely, yet urgent.

Grissom, moved out of the way to let the paramedics through to do their job. They were trained to save people's lives like this. Did it everyday.

He stood back, watching the scene in front of him. He felt Brass stand beside his shoulder.

"He'll be alright Gil," he said, although his words were lost to Grissom.

* * *

Catherine and Sara stood back from the house while the scene had been cleared, waiting for Grissom's signal. Instead though, Brass came hurrying out from the house, shouting for a medic. They didn't get the chance to speak to him before he was racing back inside behind the paramedics. This sent a small flurry of hope through the both of them. On the one hand, if they needed a medic, someone must be down there. But the question was who and what condition were they in.

"You think they're in there?" Sara said, the first to break the silence of the hectic scene in front of them.

"I hope so," replied Catherine.

"Geesh, I just wish Grissom would let us know what's going on," Sara said, staring at the entrance to the house.

* * *

Time almost seemed to slow down for Gil Grissom. It wasn't supposed to be like this. One CSI at death's door. The other, somewhere else. And they were no closer to finding Nick. No matter how hard he had tried not to think about it since the start of the case, he was now facing what seemed like the inevitable. No-more Warrick. A team torn apart by the madness and cruelty of another human being. He never thought that it would be one of his CSI's though. It just wouldn't be the same.

_And even 'if', no '**when'** we find Nick - ' he told himself firmly, before letting the thought trail off completely. 'Shouldn't focus on the negative. It's not over yet.'_

His thoughts instead shifted to the happier memories he had around the lab. He remembered one particular time he'd caught Nick and Warrick in the break room playing video games.

"_You guys want an assignment slip or a pink slip? "_

If this particular situation wasn't so sinister he'd have smiled. Typical Nick. Typical Warrick.

_'He's back.'_

Grissom looked up, the sentence from across the room catching his attention.

"Get the mask on him. He's hypoxic," the medic said, while the other quickly put the mask over Warrick's face. "We need to move him out of here now. On the gurney at three. One, two, three." They quickly positioned him on the gurney. "Are you coming?" one of them asked Grissom. He nodded.

"Get Catherine and Sara to start processing the scene" he said to Brass. "When I know what's going on, I'll be back."

Grissom followed quickly behind the paramedics as they went up the stairs.

"Is he going to be okay?" Grissom asked.

"At the moment, he's critical. We need to get him incubated as soon as possible and it's likely he's got a pneumothorax."

Grissom nodded, following closely as the gurney was wheeled out of the front of the house and to the waiting ambulance. He saw Catherine and Sara waiting on the pavement, worry etched into both of their faces.

"Grissom, is he - " Catherine shouted.

"Speak to Brass. He'll fill you in. I'll call when I know something," he said, climbing into the back of the ambulance. The sirens started, and it sped off down the road to the hospital.

* * *

Sara and Catherine approached the house, kits in hand and were met by Brass at the door.

"What happened down there? Grissom wouldn't tell us anything." Sara said, meeting Brass' eyes.

He shook his head. "It wasn't good. Almost lost him, but they got him back. Still touch and go though."

No-one said anything. Catherine broke the silence.

"Does Grissom want us to start processing the scene?"

"Er yeah. Listen. About that. It doesn't look too good down there. You need to go down the stairs in the kitchen. Watch your step."

He moved aside to let Catherine and Sara inside. Both had gotten out their torches and were now making their way to the kitchen. With Catherine leading, they made their way down the stairs to the basement, both scanning the floor for anything.

"You smell that?" Sara said, still standing on the bottom few stairs.

"Yeah," Catherine said, now looking at the rest of the room. "Smells like burnt flesh." She was pacing around the room. "I've got blood over here," she called out. She bent down to take a closer look. "Looks like a footprint."

Sara came up behind her, shining her torch on the spot with Catherine's.

"Definite print. Not too clear though." She shone her light on a far wall, moving closer. "There looks like some splatter over here."

"Can you start processing down here while I check the rest of the house over?" Catherine asked, now standing up.

"Sure," Sara replied, setting her kit down, and taking some shots of the room.

Brass came down the stairs, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

"Brass, where was Warrick when you came in."

He rubbed his forehead.

"Right there. Head towards that wall there," he said indicating with his hands.

"Any sign that Nick was here?" Sara asked.

"Nothing visible."

"I'm going to search upstairs," Catherine said to Brass, moving towards him.

"There's an Officer up there. Just call if you need anything."

* * *

Grissom waited outside the emergency room. He'd spoken to his Doctor. Warrick had stabilised since the 'hole' in the intrapleural space of his lung had been covered and a chest drain attached, drawing out the air that was trapped. His broken arm had to be moved back into position to be set, and the deep wounds and burns on his body were being treated. He'd have to be monitored for the next few hours in case he relapsed again. Various tubes and drainage lines were attached to his body.

"I'm sorry Warrick," he mumbled apologetically as he looked through the glass at his unconscious form. He'd be out of it for a while still. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew they still had to find Nick, and they still had a crime scene to process. Clutching bags of evidence, he took one last look, before heading towards the exit. He took out his mobile and dialled Catherine's number.

"Willows."

"Hey Cath. It's Grissom. I'm now leaving the hospital. How you doing at the crime scene?"

"Okay," she replied. "We've covered a large area and gathered a large amount of evidence." There was silence as she paused over the line. "How's Warrick? Brass told us what happened."

"He's stable," Grissom said. "There's nothing we can do at the moment until he wakes up which may be a while. I'll see you soon," he said, hanging up.

* * *

It didn't take Grissom long to get back to the crime scene once he'd actually got a cab. He paid, then approached the house, ducking under the yellow crime scene tape. He flashed his badge at the officer at the door, who nodded politely at him.

"Brass? Cath? Sara?" he called out.

"Yeah. We're in the kitchen," came a reply.

He made his way through to find the three of them looking over somethings.

"What you got?" he asked the three of them.

"I found this screwed up in a corner," Sara said, handing him the evidence bag. Inside was a ripped piece of paper covered in creases where it had been screwed up.

Grissom looked it over, forehead creased in thought.

"Looks like part of a list."

"Yeah. But check out what's on the bottom of that half," she replied quickly.

"Did you find the other half?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"See if you can find it. We need to know what the rest says."

* * *

**Ok – just incase someone gets confused by some of the things in this chapter this is a very brief description of some of the more medical terms mentioned, as they are a bit more in depth then I've written here.**

**Pneumothorax – Is the presence of air in the intra pleural space, which is the space between the two pleura of the lungs.**

**Hypoxia – When someone is hypoxic they have a low level of oxygen in their blood, which can lead to poor tissue delivery and other problems.**

**Here's a small teaser for my next chapter :)**

**Chapter 17**

_'Click.'_

Time stood still. A small tear slid down the side of his face, leaving a clear trail down his bloodstained and blackened face. He waited for the sound of the trigger, the bullet to impaling itself in his brain. Waited for the brief burning sensation. He knew what a bullet at close range could do to a person. Had seen it often enough in the cases he'd worked.

**Until then :)**

**Investigator**

**investigater**


	17. Death, Dreams & Fear

**Disclaimer: I don't and won't ever own CSI sob **

**A/N: What's going on? Two chapters in one day? Thanks for all the reviews and I'm sorry for being mean and hanging on and teasing you all. I promise to have a little less of them from now crosses fingers Anyway, here it is, a Nick filled chapter. Enjoy :)**

* * *

**Chapter 17: Death, Dreams and Fear**

_'Click.'_

Time stood still. A small tear slid down the side of his face, leaving a clear trail down his bloodstained and blackened face. He waited for the sound of the trigger, the bullet to impale itself in his brain. Waited for the brief burning sensation. He knew what a bullet at close range could do to a person. Had seen it often enough in the cases he'd worked.

It wasn't the pending impact of the bullet that was worrying him though.

_'What if it doesn't kill me though? What if I live through it and have to be cared for by someone for the rest of my life because I can't do anything for myself?'_

This thought terrified him the most. Loss of life. Loss of dignity.

And this time, there was no-one to save him. No-one knew where he was.

_'I don't even know where I am? No Grissom to save me like he did with Amy Hendlar.'_

He knew he was lucky then. Lucky that Grissom managed to tie together what Mr Hendlar was telling him with everything else from the case, and went back into the house before Amy could shoot him.

_'No Brass, rushing in at the last minute to apprehend the gun man like he did with Nigel.'_

Another lucky break. If they'd have watched them tapes in order, he'd already by six foot under.

More emotion bubbled to the surface. He wasn't ready to die yet – he still had so many things to tell the people he loved. His friends. His family. Things that he thought he'd have a lifetime to tell them.

_'Now I'm going to die alone in the middle of nowhere with a dripping pipe for company. If I'd have known I'd have died here I'd have put up more of a fight at the house. Could have stayed with 'Rick then. More chance of being found there.'_

He couldn't think anymore. His head felt heavy. The last few days, his past, and even his future didn't matter no-more. This was it. Everything he'd ever done, ever worked for had lead up to this moment in time. Nothing past this would matter.

_'I'll be dead. Everyone will grieve. Then they'll move on.'_

His body was tense. Every muscle in his body felt as though it was frozen. He couldn't face opening his eyes as he didn't want to see the bullet before it hit him. The tear stain had dried, leaving an odd looking mark down one side of his face.

_'This is it. The end.'_

The bullet however, did not come. He opened his eyes to see Tyrone standing up, gun still held in his hand. Glancing down and back towards his arms, he could see that Tyrone had secured him to the pipes with some handcuffs.

_'Handcuffs,' he thought to himself. Relief flooded through his body. 'It wasn't a gun. Just, handcuffs.'_

He laughed inwardly as his body tried to calm down. He'd worked himself up.

_'Handcuffs. How could I be so stupid? Doesn't matter. It's funny how stressful situations can cause the simplest things to be over-read. I'm alive. That's what matters. Alive.'_

He didn't realise though that he'd laughed out loud at the idea that he was still alive. Not until he'd been backhanded across the face by Tyrone.

"Shut it."

The force of the impact caused him to bite his tongue and he could taste fresh blood in his mouth. He turned his head getting rid of it on the floor to his left. More blood rushed to fill the space that had been cleared.

"It's just a flesh wound Nicky boy," Tyrone said, not noticing him flinch.

No-one but those closest to him called him Nicky. Somehow it felt tainted now.

"I'm going to leave you here."

_'Oh shit,' he said to himself. Fear etched in his face. Heart pounding. 'He's going to leave me here to starve instead. That's a lot worse." _

He pulled at the restraints. Not that he was having much luck. Not only were his hands tied together with rope, but he was now handcuffed to a pipe.

Tyrone chuckled.

"Don't worry. I'll be coming back. I've got some business to take care of."

He walked towards the door they'd entered.

"Don't go far Nicky." He paused. "O, and no parties either." His laughs echoed as he stepped outside, sealing the door behind him.

"So, just me, myself and I," Nick said out loud. He could hear the dripping pipe clearer now. "Okay. That's going to get irritating." He began to pull on the bindings. They dug into his wrist.

_'If I can just get the cuffs off,' he thought, tugging harder._

He heard the pipes creek at each tug. Could feel them moving with each consecutive pull. He kept on pulling until he felt his body jerk forward as one pipe came away from the other. Unfortunately, he was still attached to the lower half of the pipe and instead had only succeeded in creating a new leak. Right on top of his head.

"Great," he mumbled sarcastically. "Looks like I'm stuck here for a while."

* * *

"Did you get me the stuff?" Tyrone asked.

"Yeah. It's over there in the bag," the male voice replied. "Now where's the payment?"

Tyrone grinned.

"Right here." He whipped out the gun, shooting the man in the head. His body fell to the floor with a thud. He picked up the bag and took a look at the deceased man.

"Hope that's payment enough."

* * *

Nick tried his best to get comfortable, but, given his current predicament was finding it difficult. His head was lent on the pipes at an odd angle in an attempt to stay out of the dripping water. The rhythmical dripping of the water was making his already tired body weary.

_'Drip, drip.'_

His eyes fluttered, closing gently. He tried to fight it but he couldn't. The lack of sleep was finally catching up with him.

* * *

Tyrone had one final phone call to make.

_'Jason should be at the police station by now and that CSI should be dead.'_

He dialled the number that he'd committed to his head. The phone rang, and clicked as it was picked up.

"Grissom."

Tyrone smiled.

"Hello again Grissom. I hope you are well."

"I'm fine thank-you." Grissom kept his answers short and curt. He didn't want to speak with Tyrone. He'd been playing a game all along.

Tyrone chuckled.

"Did you like my special delivery?" he asked Grissom. "Jason Green. Stupid bastard. He was putty in my hands. Didn't realise I was manipulating him."

"I know," Grissom said calmly. "You wanted him to tell us where you'd left my CSI, but he didn't. Wouldn't say a thing. We worked that part out ourselves."

Tyrone cursed under his breath. It hadn't gone quite the way he'd wanted it too.

"Was he dead?"

Grissom thought about it. Obviously he wanted him to be found dead.

_'Part of his plan maybe? Would make sense.'_

"Yes. He was." It was important that Grissom played him at his own game if they were to find Nick.

"Good. Good. Now listen. If you want your other CSI back alive, you'll do as I say. If you don't. Well, he's dead. In two days, I want you to bring Marty to me, ready to be released. I want no-one to follow. You'll get your CSI back, I'll be on my way to freedom. You don't, I'll shoot him. Understand?"

"Yes. Where's the meeting point?"

"You'll find the address in the case files. One girl didn't die and was found alive. I'll be at that location at six tomorrow evening."

He hung up, leaving Grissom with the tone at the other end of the phone.

* * *

_Time seemed to roll into one for Nicholas Stokes. It was as though his life was a re-run on the television. Childhood memories mixing with the most recent, the images flashing in his mind. Except it was the recent ones that disturbed him most._

_Amy Hendlar, Nigel Crane, Tyrone Bale. All coming at him with a gun. Mocking him. The bodies of his friends sprawled out in front of him. Tortured in different ways. Each one shot before his eyes. Now it was his turn. He felt weak. A gibbering wreck. Each one circling him, taunting him._

"_Big boys don't cry."_

"_Look at him. He's weak."_

"_Lets break him some more."_

_Nick's body writhed. _

_He was pleading with them._

"_I can help. I'm a good listener."_

"_Which one of us should kill him," came one voice._

"_Russian roulette," a male voice sneered._

_Each one took it in turns, gun aimed at him._

_'Click. Click. Click.'_

_Each click brought one bullet closer._

_'Click. Click.'_

"_Please," begged Nick._

_'Click. Click.'_

_'Bang.'_

Nick jumped. The bang had woken him up. It was a dream but had felt so real. It wasn't a gun going off but the door to the building opening, a figure entering it.

_'Tyrone.'_

"Hey Nick. Have fun?" he asked, noticing the leaky pipe.

"Not really," Nick replied. He'd grown fed up of the games now. Constantly being talk too as though he were a child.

Anger crossed Tyrone's face. "I told you not to try anything. You tried to escape. You need to be punished."

He pulled a knife from the band of his trousers. He slowly approached Nick, the knife in his hand. Nick flinched.

"You know. I fancy trying some art." He ripped the bottom of Nick's shirt, revealing his stomach area. He could see the bruising where he'd kicked him previously. He rubbed the cold blade of the knife along one edge of the bruise, causing Nick to hiss.

"Oh, don't worry. It won't hurt much. Besides, I need you alive. For the moment."

He dug the tip of the knife into Nick's skin, deep enough to cause it to bleed. Nick's breathing increased as he tried to fight the pain, causing the knife to dig deeper into the skin. Tyrone lifted the knife. Blood dripped down the hilt. He pointed the knife straight at Nick's heart, pausing. He made a large jabbing movement, straight at it. But he stopped short. Just. He smiled slyly.

"It's not going to end like this Nicky so don't worry. I've got one last surprise for your friends. This case is going to end with a bang."

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed. Until next time...**


	18. Contemplation

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI – I'm just writing for all those other CSI fans out there :)**

**A/N: Ok – erm, again, this involves spoilers up until the end of season 4 – beware if you haven't seen all of season 5 as some things in this are shown in season 5, although are altered as this is set before season 5 (if that makes sense.) This is because of my story continuation, and, because at the time of starting this story I'd only seen three episodes of season 5. **

**Secondly: I hoped to have this chapter up sooner but my internet connection decided it would play up, so, I'm very sorry.**

**Thirdly: Thank-you for the reviews. They've been very encouraging. I'm glad that the last few chapters went down well, even though I was mean and made you all hang on to the edge of your seats. So, this chapter is dedicated to all those that have reviewed because I value your thought and opinions very much. **

* * *

**Chapter 18: Contemplation**

Gil Grissom sat back on the chair in his office, his head leaning back and eyes closed. He wasn't asleep, merely deep in thought.

_'Sleep can wait until I get home,' he thought to himself wearily._

He'd already sent Catherine and Sara home to get some rest, although he doubted that that's where they'd gone first.

_'Probably gone to the hospital to see Warrick.'_

He'd call into the hospital himself before heading home for the night. Right now though, all he needed to do was think. He'd agreed to meet with Tyrone tomorrow evening, bringing along Marty. However, together with Brass, they needed to formulate some sort of plan.

_'O, and there's still the matter of breaking the news to the Sheriff.'_

Grissom had hoped that the case wouldn't have gotten this far. That they'd have found Warrick by now, and would have Tyrone and Jason in custody without even having to approach the Sheriff with 'the plan.' Although two of the objectives had been reached, they were still missing one criminal and had now lost another CSI to the same guy.

_'And Tyrone is unpredictable,' Grissom said to himself. 'Been playing with us from the start. And he's not going to stop now.'_

He massaged the front of his head with his fingers. He had a migraine coming on.

The evidence they'd collected at the house was still being processed. The results would have to wait until he came back into the lab later in the morning. Rubbing his eyes, he got up and picked the case file up off of the desk. He'd already sent the others home for some rest. Left the day shift to process the evidence. As much as he disliked Ecklie, he knew the evidence needed to be processed.

_'I'll go over everything at home. Might pick something up.'_

Folder tucked under his arm, he closed the door to his office, making his way to the Tahoe. He didn't say anything to anyone he passed. Too deep in thought. Before he headed home he was going to call into the hospital to check on Warrick's condition. His last visit was a brief one, although he'd gotten the evidence and found out the extent of Warrick's injuries. Now, the focus had shifted to finding Nick and capturing Tyrone. He got in his Tahoe, started his engine and began the journey to the hospital.

The drive seemed to take longer then it normally did. Pulling into the parking lot, he pulled his Tahoe to a stop next to an identical vehicle. He took note of this. Making sure he'd locked the vehicle, he made his way inside the hospital, heading back up to the reception area he'd been earlier. The receptionist was different to the one that had been on earlier. He approached the desk.

"Hi. I'm looking for Warrick Brown. He was brought in earlier today."

The receptionist looked up, flashing Grissom a brief smile.

"Down the corridor and to the right. He's in a room down there. Room 546."

Grissom nodded before heading in the direction the receptionist had pointed. Turning right, he headed a little way down the corridor, heading for room 546. Approaching the room, he could see through the window the back of someone's head. Recognising it as Catherine, he tapped lightly on the door, acknowledging his presence.

"Hey Cath," Grissom greeted. "You okay?"

"Hey. Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired. Was about to head home. Lindsey's with my mother and I haven't really spent any time with her over the last few days. Sara and Greg left half hour ago."

"How's Warrick?" he asked, taking the seat beside her.

"Well, as good as can be expected. He's stable which is the main thing. Just have to wait until he wakes up now. They don't think that the head injuries are severe enough to cause any long-term damage."

"Any idea when Warrick will wake up?" he asked.

Catherine shook her head.

"No. He's on heavy medication so may be out of it for a while." She paused. "And as harsh as it sounds, hopefully he's out until we get Nicky back." Catherine picked up her bag. "I'll see you back at the lab first thing this evening."

* * *

Sara Sidle sat on her sofa, a glass of water in one hand, the other cradling her chin to her chest. Her body was exhausted yet any attempt of sleep she'd had, had ended up with her lying wide awake staring at the dark ceiling. She enjoyed her job: on a normal day.

_'Any day but today,' she thought miserably to herself._

This case was different to others. It involved the people she knew, worked close with on a daily basis. It brought things closer to home. Stirred up the memories of the day her mother killed her father. Although the memory sat in her mind, this, coupled with the disappearance of first Warrick and Nick it threatened to overspill and engulf her. No-one knew about this, not even Grissom. She knew it affected her work, especially in cases of domestic abuse, and that one day she'd lose it completely during a case.

In a way, Sara felt guilty. She'd never really had any disagreements with Nick, and she enjoyed winding the Texan up. However, she hadn't always been friendly with Warrick.

_'Ok, I had my reasons. Holly Gribbs.'_

Holly Gribbs was shot after a suspect returned to the scene. A scene where Warrick should have been, shadowing her, and had instead left her alone to place a bet. Sara was sent to Las Vegas to deal with the internal investigation and had decided to stay there. And within months, she got a tape of Warrick at The Monaco after he passed off a court case. She'd been off with him, until it turned out he'd only been there to collect a debt owed to him to bail out Jason. She took a gulp of water from the glass.

_'Come on Sara,' she told herself forcibly. 'Can't let this affect me. It'll cloud my judgement.'_

She got up off of the sofa, placing the glass down on the table.

_'It'll just have to stay there until the morning,' she told herself, stretching._

She headed to the sanctuary of her bedroom. Climbing into her bed, she let the covers drape over her body, eyes fixed straight ahead on the ceiling.

_'It's going to be one long night.'_

* * *

Greg Sanders had some serious contemplation to do. He didn't want to be stuck in the DNA lab for the rest of his working career, and was hoping to be able to branch out, become a CSI and work in the field. Each time he matched that essential piece of DNA that would help nail a case, the feeling of excitation he felt originally had dimmed. But this wasn't the only reason. He'd had his own brush with death, and in all the places, it was in the lab. His body gave an involuntary shudder at the memory of being thrown through the glass.

_'And now this goes and happens. What's to say that something like this wouldn't happen to me?'_

He pushed his floppy hair out of his eyes, the hair having lost any style it had been in. The normally outrageous lab rat who had calmed down over time, was even more mellow than normal. The case had effected everyone around the lab, even those that weren't particularly close to those on the night shift. He ran his fingers through his hair.

He'd been at the hospital, saw Warrick attached to the various drips and lines.

_'If that's anything to go by, I wonder what Nick's like?'_

He knew that Nick was a much more emotional person than Warrick.

_'Either that or Warrick hides it very well,' he told himself._

He knew Nick had been held at gunpoint on two particular occasions. That Nigel Crane had been the one to get under his skin more.

_'He'd been stalking him. Wearing his clothes. Creepy."_

But he wasn't sure how well he'd handle it this time, or what kind of state he'd be in.

* * *

Catherine Willows pulled the keys out of the ignition of her Tahoe, the engine cutting out. She picked up her bag off of the front seat, before hurrying inside her house. She closed the door quietly. Her mother was sat on the sofa with Lindsey's head on her lap.

"Hey," Catherine said quietly to her mum.

"Hey Catherine," the woman replied, smiling at her daughter. "You okay?"

_'Okay?' she thought miserably to herself. 'How can I be okay? I'm at work more then I am at home, hardly spend any time with my daughter, and to top it all, Nick's still being held by a maniac and Warrick's in hospital.'_

"I'm fine mom. How's Lindsey?"

"She's fine. Waiting for you to come home."

Catherine smiled. Things hadn't been plain sailing for either her or her daughter the last few years. She risked losing her daughter after her ex-husband Eddie had filed a complaint to Child Services accusing her of child neglect. Admittedly, she had lost track of time during the case which led to her forgetting to pick up Lindsey, but filing a complaint? Honestly.

That however didn't matter now. Although that hurt, what hurt more was that Eddie was dead and her little girl now had no father in her life, even if he did let her down on occasion. And some part of Catherine missed him. Perhaps even still loved him. And now, she was being affected by the disappearance of the people around her: those close to her. She sat down on the sofa, the movement stirring Lindsey. She opened her eyes sleepily, looking at Catherine.

"Mom?" she asked sleepily.

"Hey Linds," she replied.

This was her time with her daughter. Something that had been lacking for a while now, more so since the death of Eddie.

_You never know what you've got until it's too late.'_

* * *

Jim Brass closed the door to the Sheriff's office, leaving him seething behind the desk, cursing just about everything and everyone. He shook his head as he wandered down the corridor.

_'That went as well as could be expected.'_

He'd just spent the last hour with the Sheriff talking to him about the 'release' of Marty Silver in order to secure Nick's release. This hadn't gone down too well with the Sheriff. At first, he refused point blank, but after some talking too, Brass had managed to get him to change his mind.

_'Well, sort of,' he murmured._

It wasn't until Brass had pointed out that it would perhaps help improve his reputation that he began to listen. That in actual fact it was just a ploy to capture a dangerous criminal, to protect the public as well as rescue the CSI's.

_'By protecting the people who work for you, it shows the public that you're protecting them. Funny that the possibility of improving your reputation can make you change your mind,' mused Brass. _

He himself was no stranger to 'reputation.' He was, as he liked to put it, 'once boss of CSI,' but after a grave error was moved back into the Police Department as Captain. He'd also had a large disagreement with Warrick at this time and his decision to get him to shadow Holly Gribbs had led to the tragic events leading after it. Even after that he'd had his disagreements with him, but, over time, had learnt to respect him. He was good at his job. As was Nick.

He needed to call Grissom and let him know how the conversation with the Sheriff had gone. Grissom hadn't been too hopeful, which is one reason he'd hadn't gone to the Sheriff himself. That, and the fact he didn't really have a grasp on the politics side of things preferring to be on the sidelines, often landing him in hot water.

'_Which is why Gil Grissom doesn't get involved in politics,' Brass said, heading to make that call._

* * *

Gil Grissom had been seated by Warrick's bedside for a while. Various things floated through his mind as the rhythmical beeping of the machinery filled the room, along with the steady breathing of the man in the bed. A few days ago, even hours, he wouldn't have anticipated this scene. He knew that the first few hours in any sort of kidnapping case were crucial if they were to find the victim alive. And even though time had gotten away, they'd found Warrick alive.

_'Just. Now we just need to find Nicky.'_

He didn't know what Tyrone had in store for Nicky. For the team. He wasn't sure what to expect from tomorrow's meeting. He glanced at the clock on the wall.

_'Time to go,' he told himself, although regrettably. _

He knew he'd be back soon enough.

_'And next time, hopefully Nick will be with us.'_

* * *

The pipe above his head was still dripping, although the flow had seemed to lessen slightly. The bleeding from his torso had stopped, leaving ugly red gashes where the knife had been. For the moment, he knew that he was going to be kept alive.

_'I just don't know until when.'_

The situation frustrated him. He felt as though he'd let everyone down, ending up here. Not that he could see it coming. What he didn't like, and what had been playing on his mind since Tyrone had left, was what he'd meant by having one last surprise for his friends.

_'Does he mean to hurt me? Or them?'_

The thought of it being his friends hurt more then the thought if it being himself. Especially as it was still unclear whether Warrick was dead or alive. Tyrone hadn't mentioned it fully, instead mocking him, making snide comments.

_'In fact, I haven't seen Tyrone since he came back,' he thought to himself._

Although the building was crumbling, there was still enough architecture remaining for Tyrone to seal himself away privately. At times, Nick could hear banging, manic laughter and other things, but still had no clear picture about what he was doing.

_'Hopefully building his coffin,' he said to himself, pulling at the cuffs in the hope that he could get free._

* * *

Images floated inside Warrick's mind. He was dreaming. Or so it seemed. The only difference was that these dreams seemed to be very much real. The fog caused by the medication wasn't helping much either, making things more confusing. It was as though he was watching a re-run on the television. He saw himself, Nick and the others around the lab before it shifted to him and Nick in the bar. He saw himself getting out of the cab, then in a darkroom. The darkroom was illusive; noises coming out from the darkness. It seemed to be shifting, changing shape.

_'Nick.'_

His own voice screamed around his head as the memories merged in his mind. He tried to open his eyes, except they wouldn't open. They felt heavy as he fought the medication in attempt to open his eyes. It took him a while but, finally, what seemed like an eternity, tired green eyes partially opened, looking at the dull white ceiling.

_'White ceiling: that's new.'_

The beeping of the equipment caught his attention now. confusion etched in his face. He didn't remember getting here. Or anything leading up to 'here.' He tried to move, but his body didn't want too. He blinked once or twice, listening to the slow beeps. His eyes fluttered a few more times, before the medication fought back. He couldn't fight it no-more, letting his eyes shut and drifting once off once more.

* * *

Opening his door, Grissom turned on a light. He grabbed a bottle of water before making himself comfortable on the sofa. Closing his eyes, he let everything drain from him. Time seemed to pass, a shrill ring sounding in the distance.

_'Ring, ring.'_

Grissom stirred.

_'That's my phone.'_

Getting up, he went over to the worksurface where he'd left his phone. He looked at the called ID.

_'Brass.'_

"Grissom," he said.

"Hey Gil. It's Brass. I've spoken to the Sheriff."

Grissom's heart dropped.

"Let me guess, he said no."

"Well, actually, he said yes. It took some persuasion but he eventually agreed. Well, when I mentioned the fact that it may increase his reputation."

Grissom left out a sigh. "That's typical of our Sheriff."

"Yep. Tell me about it. Anyway Gil, we need to arrange the plan. I'm going home to get a few hours sleep but meet you at the lab say in five hours?2

"That's fine Brass. I'll see you then." He hung up the phone.

_'Now the hard work is about to begin.'_

* * *

**So, that's it for now. Hopefully I'll get the next chapter up before I go home for the weekend :)**


	19. Countdown

**Disclaimer: Unless this has escaped every one's attention for the last 18 chapters, I don't own CSI, although I assume that none of you do either. But it would be a nice thought.**

**A/N: Glad that the last chapter was liked. I enjoyed writing it – trying to capture the emotional sides to our fave CSI's. So here is chapter 19 – a full Nick solid chapter :)**

* * *

**Chapter 19: Countdown**

Nick had given up. Almost. Despite the fact that on the outside the building appeared to be falling apart, the pipe he was attached to was well and truly stuck. And him with it.

_'Typical.'_

He'd had visions of the building collapsing and him still being stuck to that wretched pipe, rubble strewn around him, the hot sun beating down on him. Despite the serious of the current situation, he had to chuckle to himself.

_'Either that, or go crazy.'_

He hadn't heard anything out of Tyrone for _minutes? Hours?_ It was as though he'd vanished off of the edge of the Earth.

_'Not that the Earth has an edge.'_

He scanned the room he was in. Various chairs were scatted around the edges, a broken table just off centre. He strained his ears for anything that would tell him what was going on. The possible danger that he was in next. The odd thing was, he couldn't hear anything apart from the dripping pipes. He began to hum a tune. Anything to try and block out the drips that were beginning to irritate him.

_'What will be the first thing I do when I get out of here?' he thought to himself._

The images flickered in his mind, putting him slightly at ease. He could imagine the aromas coming from the café as he and the others sat and ate breakfast. It almost felt real, yet provided him with the necessary distraction that he needed. He didn't know what was coming next, or what was going on outside of here. He stretched out his legs in front of him. He hissed.

'Damn leg,' he mumbled to himself, trying to inspect the wound tract.

_'Looks superficial. But damn, it's ruined my pants.'_

Still grimacing, he continued to straighten his legs. They felt numb. He tried to relax but it was difficult with his hands tied behind his back. He was beginning to wonder what the others were doing at this moment in time.

_'Wonder if they've gottn any closer to finding me? Wonder if they found 'Rick?'_

A loud band caught his attention, his body jumping, jarring his shoulder.

_'Er, oowwwww,' he said to himself, straining to look in the direction the noise came from._

He couldn't see anything, but after a few moments he could hear some murmuring.

"Well at least it works," came the voice. "Just got to make the real thing now."

A loud clatter rang out as something was thrown onto a hard surface. Nick could make out more mumbling, before the door creaked opened, heavy footsteps moving towards him. Nick took a deep breath, his palms clammy. His last encounter with Tyrone hadn't been good: he'd ended up with knife injuries, and that was after he thought his life was about to end: had spent time torturing himself, reliving the old memories.

The footsteps got louder as they moved closer, until the large shadow of Tyrone's body framed the doorway. He made his way closer to Nick, smiled slyly at him, before sitting crossed legged in front on him.

"Hi Nick," Tyrone drooled.

Nick didn't say anything, instead, sizing up Tyrone as though they were opponents in a boxing ring.

"Hey Nick. Come on. That's not polite you know."

Nick swallowed.

"Hi. Tyrone."

"And how are you today?" he asked him. He examined the raw flesh running down Nick's torso, before jabbing a finger along the cuts, causing Nick to take a sharp in take of breath.

_'That hurt a lot.'_

"Well I see you're still well. Too well in my opinion. But I'll see to that later."

Nick just nodded, although the fear shone in his eyes. He didn't like the sound of that.

"So Nick. It's just me and you against the world. Well, me against the world. You're just my pawn so I can get what I want. Anyway, I expect you're wondering what's happening next don't you? If you're going to get out of here alive. Or dead. Like your friend Warrick."

"Warrick ain't dead," Nick said defiently. "He's a lot stronger then you think he is. You'll see."

Tyrone studied Nick, his eyes narrowed, a small smile crossing his lips.

"That so is it? You really think he's still alive?"

He stood up now and began to pace round the room. Nick just nodded silently at his last question, not able to say anything.

"He's dead."

Nick shook is head, the tears trying to form in his eyes.

"No," he whispered.

Tyrone approached him, nodding his head venometely.

"Yup. Dead. Your friend, Gil Grissom told me so."

The emotion boiled in Nick, the tears now flowing freely. Tears of anger, frustration. Tears of saddness, regret.

"No. You're wrong. Grissom -"

"Grissom says he's dead. You saw him when we left. He was just as good as dead. Hell, you even saw him before you left." He laughed. "All that blood. I have to admit, he didn't break easily. Wasn't like you though. No. He never cried. Had a mouth on him though."

This was something that Nick didn't want to hear. He'd already seen it with his own eyes. Witnessed the damage that had been done. Now Tyrone was playing with his mind, trying to get a reaction.

_'I know this is what this guy wants. And I'm playing into his hands, as hard as I try not too.'_

Tyrone was still talking. He didn't care if Nick was listening or not.

"You know, I tried knives. But that didn't work. Wasn't until I used the hot metal on his skin that I got some kind of reaction. And hell, that was good."

He looked in Nick's direction. Nick had his eyes closed, fighting back the tears, fighting his own demons. His own worries.

_'Is this what he's going to do to me?'_ He knew he'd break a lot sooner then Warrick. He was more emotional.

"I'm sorry Nicky. Am I boring you?" He approached Nick, hands in his pockets. Nick tensed his body, readying himself for whatever it was that was coming. So he was surprised then, when Tyrone pulled out a small black tape recorder.

"What's that?" Nick asked, aprehension in his voice.

"This," Tyrone said, showing Nick the tape recorder, "Contains – well, I'll let you listen for yourself."

He hit the play button. Crackles and static played for the first few moments, before distinct voices came onto the tape.

_Flashback:_

"_Here you go." This man was shorter than Tyrone and had a mop of dirty blond hair._

"_Good." responded Tyrone, still not taking his eyes off of Warrick. He spoke again, this time to Warrick. "Let's see, we've done sharp and blunt, now we're going to do hot. _

_End Flashback._

Nick didn't like where this was going.

_'That's Tyrone. I don't know who the first voice belonged too.'_

The tape continued to play.

_Flashback:_

"_I haven't really had any screams of agony from you. I'm disappointed. I want to hear you scream." He pulled out a small tape recorder from his pocket. "Oh, don't worry about this. It's just to record those screams." He laughed and hit the record button._

"_You'll never he.." Warrick began but was cut off._

_End Flashback._

_'Was that 'Rick?' he said to himself. He knew it was, but was trying to persuade himself that it wasn't. He didn't want to know what was next. Although defient, he could hear a slight waver in Warrick's voice._

_Flasback:_

"_Never say never Warrick." He lifted a metal rod from the bucket. It was glowing red. He walked over to Warrick, ripping apart the remainder of his shirt. "Never...say..never," he screamed as he forced the rod onto Warrick's chest, the smell of burning flesh filling the room. Warrick couldn't help but yell._

_End Flashback._

Tyrone stopped the tape player, taking a deep breath in. He didn't see the Nick shudder as his friends ells continued to echo in his mind even after the tape player had been turned off.

"You bastard," Nick yelled. "You're sick." His eyes still watered, any calm he had managed to compose long gone.

"Yeah, I know," Tyrone gloated, as though he was proud at his twisted ways. "And now I'm going to have some more fun. I've got," he looked as his watch. "Just under twenty-four hours before I have to deliver you to Grissom, so I may aswell get my fun in now. I mean, I told him I'd give you back to him alive. Just, well, I didn't tell him _how _ alive."

Nick shok is head violently.

"It doesn't have to be like this. You can just let me go, walk out of here now."

"And leave my brother on death row? Not an option."

"But we didn't do anything to you. We just followed the evidence."

Tyrone's nostrils flared. Nick noticed and instantly regretted trying to reason with Tyrone.

"You followed the evidence that put him in jail in the first place," he hissed. "Do you have any idea what that did to me? The torture I've endured at the very thought." He clenched his fists. "And in twenty four hours you will be dead Nick. And I'll be free, along with my brother."

"But you said - "

"Said what? That I was going to let you go alive? Well you will be, after I've released you. It just won't be for long. "

Unseathing his knife, he approaced Nick again.

"So here we are. Almost at the end. Now where do you want me to start first?"

Any attempt Nick had had at steming the tears failed, small tears running down his cheeks. He'd just received the news that everyone dreaded.

_'In twenty four hours I'll be dead.'_

He felt the cold metal of the blade touch his skin. Somehow that didn't matter so much anymore.

* * *

**So, What will happen next? Will Nick get out of this alive? And will attempts at negotiation be successful? In order to find out, you'll have to look out for the next chapter :)**


	20. Like A Glove

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or the characters, and if you haven't got this after 20 chapters well, I need to improve my disclaimers :P**

**A/N: I'm not going to try and explain the big gap between the last chapter and this one. Things over the last few months have been.. intense to say the least but I want to apologise for how bad I am at getting this uploaded and written for all you readers. **

* * *

**Chapter 20: Like A Glove**

The cold metal of the steel bore into Nick's skin. Nick flinched as the steel of the blade dug repeatedly at his skin, old wounds re-opening. The stinging sensation he first felt when the knife touched his skin had subsided. Instead, a dull throbbing made its way through his aching limbs, a burning sensation touching the core of his body. Each time he'd hoped that Tyrone had finally left him alone, he was yet again disappointed to hear his boots pound the hard surface of the floor, followed by the swift slice of the blade. It was as though he'd heard him

and to grind his heart into the ground further, he'd come out of hiding to punish Nick some more. It had no real meaning anymore, only to make Nick's last moments on Earth a little more harder to bare.

Nick had been beating himself up about his capture since the first moment he'd woken in the dingy basement.

_'This could have been prevented if I'd just listened to Grissom. No – maybe if I'd have stayed in the bar longer with Warrick then maybe all of this could have been stopped.'_

Life, however, is never so simple.

_'No ifs. No Buts. No if only. Only the bleak reality of the future staring right back at me.'_

Nick didn't hold much hope anymore. Any he did have he'd lost when Tyrone told him was Warrick was dead.

_'If Grissom and the others found him dead, what chance is there of me coming out of this alive.?'_

He'd never really doubted Grissom's abilities before now. Or any of Sara's or Cath's for that matter. They each had their strong points and equally, their weaknesses. He never realised that their skills would be required to help save him.

* * *

Grissom entered the lab, bleary eyed, but awake. Sleep was something that he could lack quite often but somehow he managed to get through each shift, solving crime after crime. He knew that he may have overlooked that essential bit of evidence because he was tired, but somehow he still managed to figure it out with the help of the rest of his team. His mission right now was to find Brass. He hadn't got in contact with either Sara or Catherine, deciding that he'd phone them when the time was right. Carrying on through the lab, he rounded a corner coming face to face with Brass. Jim Brass jumped, having been miles away in thought.

"Gil," he greeted.

Grissom eyed Brass as though he was a suspect.

"Hi Jim. Make you jump?"

Brass smiled.

"Yeah you did. Just don't tell anyone I took my eye off the ball." He grinned. " So, your office or mine?"

Grissom raised his eyebrow.

"Mine."

Brass nodded, as though he'd hadn't expected that response, and followed Grissom back down the corridor from which he'd previously come from. He followed Grissom into his office, closing the door behind the both of them before taking the seat in front of the desk. Grissom set down the folder on the desk before taking his normal seat behind his desk.

"So what do you know Gil?" Brass asked.

"I know the location" He pushed the file towards Brass who promptly picked it up off of the table, and began glancing it other.

"I know the place. Built up residential area. Don't know what point the S.O.B is trying to prove."

"Well, built up area. Innocent bystanders. Perhaps by staging the handover there he thinks that he'll get away easier. Threaten to harm those near by."

Brass nodded.

"Well, I'll call in the armed police.. Hopefully it's built up enough for him not to notice them. And I'll get someone over there and evacuate the surrounding areas. Now, were you planning to actually get Marty released for the little day trip? Or just hoping it'll never get that far?"

Brass was met with silence. He lifted his head from the file to see Grissom staring into the space in front of him, flicking a pen in his right hand.

"What? You didn't see this bit coming?"

Grissom arched his eyebrow, turning his gaze to Brass.

"I think the best thing would be to get him out for the day, but seeing the risk he is, I think he should stay where he is. We don't know how this is going to run. Something just doesn't seem right. We need to make sure that he doesn't realise we've got back up. If he does we might not get Nick back alive. He's already proved how menacing he can be. I don't want to give him the option to do it again."

Silence hung in the air.

"To be honest, I thought we'd have solved the case by now."

"I think we all thought that Gil. How do you see this being played out?"

Grissom shrugged.

"Well we know he's sly. He led Jason straight to us and that was his intention all the time. As for tomorrow, only time can tell. I don't think somehow that it's going to be as simple as he's making it out to be."

"When is it ever simple, Gil?" Brass put his hands on his knees, raising himself from his chair. He made to exit Grissom's office but stopped.

"Oh, by the way. I heard an interesting thing when I got in. Day shift were called in to deal with a murder this morning. Dead guy. Shot at close range."

"And?" Grissom responded, not understanding the point Brass was trying to make.

"I was just getting there. They got a hit off of AFIS. His name was Timothy Bryant. When they searched his address they discovered he dealt with explosives. Had all the supplies there to make a bomb. Thing is, it looks like he'd just done some business with someone."

"What makes them think that?"

"Found a list. Or rather. Half a list."

"We found part of a list in the house where we found Warrick. I've got to go Jim."

Brass nodded, understanding what he was about to do, moving aside for Grissom as he dashed towards the door.

Gil Grissom was on a mission.

* * *

Brass headed in the opposite direction to Grissom. He had some planning to do. Heading into his own, dimly lit office, he sat down behind the desk. He went to pick up the phone, and instead was surprise to find it ring as his fingers touched it. Sighing, he picked up the phone.

"Captain Jim Brass. Ah, Sheriff." Brass spun his chair a little.

_'Why did the Sheriff have to phone now?' he thought to himself as the Sheriff's voice echoed around his head._

"_What's going on Jim?" the Sheriff said._

"At the moment, nothing. Grissom's following up a lead. We go from there."

He knew he shouldn't lead the Sheriff in circles but currently, he didn't want the aggravation.

"_You better not be lying to me. I'll call you back within the hour, and I want to know what's going on."_

The receiver clicked. Brass put the phone down before picking it up again. He had business to attend too.

* * *

Sara squinted at the clock through tired eyes. She didn't realise how late it was. Cursing, she got out of her bed and made her way to her sitting room. The glass she'd left on the table hours before still sat there, water stains littering the sides. Ignoring the glass on the table, she took another one and poured herself an ice cold glass of water. She'd slept a lot longer then she'd intended too, although she knew that she'd be grateful for it in a few hours time.

* * *

Gil Grissom hurried through the lab trying to track down the letter that the day shift found. He knew that he shouldn't really interfere. It wasn't just because it wasn't Night Shifts case – he didn't want to deal with Ecklie at the moment. He headed into the evidence vault. Finding the evidence he needed, he dealt with the necessary paperwork before searching for the particular piece evidence he was looking for. There, near the bottom of the pile was a sealed evidence bag containing a piece of paper. Smiling slightly, he pulled it out, before heading back to the evidence room.

All the evidence they'd collected since the beginning of the case was laid out in the evidence room. Moving pictures and files aside, he found inside another evidence the note that Sara had found inside the house. Reaching across for it, he took it aside to another surface. He pulled on some latex gloves before handling the evidence bags any further. Lining the two halves up against each other he felt a little hope. He was no handwriting expert, but, he could see that the writing on both halves were a match.

Opening both evidence bags, he lined up both halves of the paper.

"Like a glove," he said out loud.

Pulling off his latex gloves, he left the evidence room. He needed to get in contact with Catherine and Sara, find Brass and get in contact with Ecklie.

* * *

Catherine was already in the break room when Sara got there. Grabbing a cup, Sara poured herself a coffee.

"You seen Grissom yet?" she asked Catherine.

"No. Only just got here myself," she said sighing into her own cup. "I guess we shouldn't make him wait any longer."

They both made their way out of the break room to the evidence room, making idle chatter about Grissom's new evidence. Both of them were shocked however as they stepped into the entrance to see Grissom conversing with Ecklie. It was well known that Grissom and Ecklie didn't get on well with each other and this new development only confused the two of them further.

"Grissom," Catherine said, trying to hide the surprise in her voice, glancing briefly at Ecklie. "You found something," she said, just to emphasise her point.

"Catherine, Sara," Ecklie greeted, a traces of a smile etching the corners of his face.

Catherine bit her tongue before mumbling some sort of greeting, while Sara stood stony faced behind her, arms folded across her chest, clicking her tongue on the side of her cheek.

Grissom pointed to the table in front of him, the two pieces of the letter sitting side by side.

"Remember at the crime scene the other day we found half of a list?" Both Catherine and Sara nodded in unison. "Well, the other half was found earlier today at another crime scene. The victim was shot at close range, the rest of the list screwed up in his hand. My guess is that Tyrone grabbed it before he left, accidentally leaving the end behind."

"That makes sense. But if he went to all that trouble killing the guy, why leave the other half in the house?" Sara said.

"Sometimes even the smallest detail can be overlooked when you work so meticulously."

* * *

"Look. We've been over this again. We know Tyrone was planning something. Something involving explosives," Brass said to Jason.

"And my client has already told you Captain Brass, that he doesn't know what he's planning."

Brass shot Jason's lawyer a dark look before continuing as though he'd never spoken.

"Thing is, we printed that list. And your prints were all over the thing. Now tell us what you know."

Silence filled the interview room.

"Listen. We all know why you're here. Tyrone set you up. Plain and simple."

"He didn't," Jason shouted, his angered cries echoing round the room. "He wouldn't do that."

"You sure about that Jason? You think it was a coincidence he got you to take that van back when he knew we were looking for you? That it was just your prints and those of the explosives guy on that sheet of paper?" Brass said, noting the way his accusations were tormenting Jason. "He played you like a pack of cards."

Jason slammed his fists down on the table, sending vibrations down to the floor. "He wouldn't do that."

"Captain Brass I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk to my client like that."

"Come on Jason," Brass said, "You're a smart guy. Why don't you tell us what you know and maybe we can work something out."

"I'm not a grass."

"So what? You're just going to let him get away with murder? Framing you?"

"Murder?" Jason asked.

"Yeah, murder. Well that's what it's going to be if we don't find the missing CSI. You want that huh?" Brass said, the level of his voice raising.

"He wouldn't. He said he wasn't going to kill them." Nervousness tinged Jason's voice.

"Then why don't you tell us what the plans were?"

Silence.

"You're already in deep trouble. Any further and it's just going to get worse."

Jason's lawyer, Marcus Hunt had listened to the conversation with detail.

"Can I have a few minutes with my client Captain Brass?" Marcus asked.

* * *

Ten minutes after Marcus asked for a few minutes alone, Brass went back into the interview room.

"I've discussed you suggestions with my client Captain," he said.

"So you're ready to talk?" he asked Jason.

Jason glanced briefly at Marcus, who nodded.

"I don't want to go down for murder. All I've done in the past was some robberies. I was going through a tough patch. Tyrone was in the same prison as me, acting the tough one. I tried to ignore him. But things, they escalated and before long he had me under his thumb. I just want a clean break. Get on with my life."

"Well, if you tell me what I need to know, then we'll see what we can work out."

"Fine. I'll tell you what you need to know. Just... just don't let him know I told you."

* * *

**So that was chapter 20. I know where this is going so I can write it between lesson times so the space in between shouldn't be so big. Sorry again and I hope you tune in for the next chapter.**


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